Flirting With Disaster
by WritingRebecca
Summary: After witnessing a murder, in one night, Bella is transformed from hotel maid to wife of Edward Cullen, an international arms dealer; after all, wives can't be forced to testify against their husbands! Suddenly dropped in a life of shocking wealth and deadly business deals, she must navigate a sham marriage to a seductive criminal while fending off handsome FBI agent Jacob
1. Chapter 1

"So I told him, 'look, if you don't want to talk about marriage yet, okay, that's fine. I know that commitment is scary and you just want to enjoy your twenties and not look that far ahead. I understand. But what I don't understand is why you haven't managed to fill out a single job application in almost two months. I can't keep paying the whole rent every month. I'm going to run out of savings soon, and then it'll cut into my tuition!' And then Mike interrupted me and told me that I was basically blackmailing him into proposing by threatening him with homelessness." Bella sighed exasperatedly as she pushed the last of the dirty sheets down the hotel laundry shoot.

"What a jackass," Angela shook her head. "I hope you told him off."

"Well," Bella continued, as they each took ahold of the laundry cart and continued down the hallway. "I told him that I didn't appreciate being vilified and that if he found me that reprehensible he could get the hell out - it's not like I'd miss doing his laundry or washing his dishes."

"Good going!" Angela stopped pushing the cart and held out her hand for a high-five.

Bella waved away her friend's praise, but a small smile turned up her lips. "So then he told me that I had to be delusional to go around acting like the responsible one when I'm blowing money on something as impractical as art classes. And then I told him that was rich coming from a guy who wants to be a musician. So then he said . . . well, anyway, long story short: we broke up."

"Thank God!" Angela raised her hands to the ceiling as though thanking the heavens. "Just make sure it sticks this time. If you guys make up and get back together one more time I'm going to rip out all my hair."

"Oh lord, don't do that," Bella shook her head. "Nothing about my pathetic love life is worth that much energy. Trust me."

"Please, please, please, just _promise_ me that you won't get back together with him!" Angela insisted. "He can be such a jerk, I just don't understand what you see in him."

"He can be a jerk," Bella agreed with a decisive nod. "He really can be. But he's also smart, and creative, and he can be really kind, and he was my first love, and…"

Angela made a retching sound as they came to a stop in front of the elevator. "Oh God. Gag me." She pushed the button to go down and then turned to glare sternly at her friend. "Look, Bella, plenty of guys are smart and creative - and, amazingly, some of them aren't total assholes. And maybe Mike _can_ be kind, but when's the last time he actually _was_ kind? And as for him being your first love, you're absolutely right; the two of you have been dating since sophomore year of high school. That's almost ten years, which is why it's not a good sign that he's still breaking out in a cold sweat any time you so much as mention the word 'marriage.' He's not a good guy, Bella. Maybe he was in high school, but he's not the same person any more."

"Well," Bella looked down, fixing her gaze on her tennis shoes. "I don't know if I believe _that_. But it is getting harder and harder to remember why I'm in this relationship."

"You mean why you _were_ in that relationship," Angela corrected her firmly. "You really ought to stay over at my place tonight."

"It's okay," Bella sighed. "He's staying at Tyler's place, and anyway, I already changed the locks."

"That's my girl!" Angela said proudly. "But I want you to come over anyway. I'm not letting you out of my sight for five minutes. I know that bastard. Give him five minutes and he'll be at the door sweet-talking his way back into your bed. Stay at my place for a few nights. If he shows up there, I'll mace his ugly mug."

Bella giggled. She'd been incredibly depressed about the breakup, but Angela could always make her laugh. "Okay," she said with a smile. "I have a late shift tonight but I'll come over as soon as I get off?"

"Yes!" Angela clapped her hands excitedly. "Movie night! I'm gonna eat so much junk food. Technically that's your job, since you're the one who just went through a breakup, but just in case you shirk your duty, I'll be there to pick up the slack."

"Oh good," Bella said drily as the elevator dinged and doors slid open. "Although," she added as they pushed the cart into the elevator, "if I binged on junk food every time Mike and I broke up, I'd weigh half a ton."

"This is true." Angela conceded.

At first they were too busy struggling with the cart to notice that the elevator was occupied. It wasn't until they had finished tugging the cart over the threshold that Bella noticed the incredibly handsome bronze-haired man already inhabiting the elevator.

Edward Cullen. The most gorgeous guy she'd ever clapped eyes on. Tall, with just the perfect amount of lean, powerful muscle gracing his broad frame, he had startling green eyes, spiky bronze hair that was cut movie-star style, and a chiseled, dangerously attractive face. She stared at him, and found that he was looking back at her with one of his trademark Edward Cullen expressions; there was soft amusement on his lips and raw sexual hunger in his eyes.

 _Oh my God_. If he hadn't been watching her, Bella would have fanned herself. She had to be flushed red as a tomato. She shared a sideways glance with Angela, who was ogling Edward just as enthusiastically as Bella was.

Edward Cullen was one of the hotel's wealthiest guests, and, given that the hotel was located in Manhattan's priciest zip-code, they had no shortage of wealthy guests. He was some kind of … businessman, or something. No one asked too many questions or talked about his line of work much, actually, which was probably a bad sign. But with a face like that, Bella could forgive him anything.

His whole family was loaded, from his uncle Carlisle Cullen to his brother Emmett Cullen, who was married to a Hollywood starlet of stunning beauty. But it wasn't the size of his wallet that attracted Bella, more like the size of his one-sided dimple when he flashed a devil-may-care grin that was shockingly boyish, given how harsh and downright threatening his face could be when he was angry.

He had never been angry at her. She had seen Edward yelling at his brother a few times when she went up to deliver the dry cleaning, but he had never been anything but excessively polite to her. That was impressive in and of itself, given the way most guests at the hotel treated her like a sub-human cleaning machine that was hardly worthy of eye contact, let alone pleasantries.

There had even been a few times when she got the impression that … but no, that was ridiculous. Edward used that hungry grin on everyone. It was practically his trademark. If, once or twice, she had gotten the impression that he was undressing her with his eyes, following the outline of her body under her unflattering maid's uniform… well, that was just her overactive imagination. She should save that kind of thinking for late nights, alone in her room, when Mike was out drinking with the guys, and she felt a trembling, insatiable lust for a man who was only about a million miles out of her league.

Unwillingly, she found her gaze drifting to her own reflection in the elevator mirror. She was pretty, she supposed, but it was nothing to write home about. It was an ordinary-pretty. Nice face, nice brown eyes, nice alabaster-white skin, nice shiny brown hair, nice figure. A _very_ nice smile, if she did say so herself, but all one had to do was compare her to the heart-stopping Rosalie Cullen, Edward's sister-in-law, to see how very unremarkable Bella's good looks were. Edward was used to glamorously gorgeous women. Bella had seen enough of them in his presidential suite to know his type. Mousy maids were not his type.

Still, she enjoyed those moments when their eyes met and, however foolishly, she felt an electric connection between them. It was exciting, heartening, made her feel like she had romance and excitement in her life even though she didn't. Not really. Well, there was always Mike. Bella sighed.

The elevator dinged as it reached the lobby, and Edward shifted to leave, but before he did he turned and flashed her a knowing smile. "Good to see you Bella," his gaze shifted to Angela and he nodded politely before stepping out of the elevator. The doors closed behind him and Bella and Angela turned to each other, eyes wide.

"He remembered your name!" Angela gushed.

"He remembered my name." Bella repeated, with a giggle that was very out-of-character and actually sort of embarrassing. "He said it was good to see me."

"I'm telling you Bella," Angela said as the elevator stopped at the basement level. "There's definitely something going on there."

"Yes, he's the only polite billionaire we've ever waited on." Bella countered. "We can't read into everything he does just because he's incredibly handsome."

"No, it's more than that," Angela insisted. "He's always looking at you, he remembered your name, he helped you when you tripped that one time."

"Good manners, that's all," Bella waved a hand emphatically as they tugged the laundry cart out of the elevator.

"Well then how come he didn't remember _my_ name?" Angela said, and then smiled when Bella raised her eyebrows. "Speaking as someone who is insanely jealous right now - I really think he's in to you."

"Yes, well," Bella said as they pushed the cart down the hall, "speaking as someone who thinks you're delusional, let me just say, even if he were attracted to me - _which he is_ _not_ \- it's not as if anything would ever actually come of it. He's got a different woman in his hotel suite every night, and what I want, what I really want, is a solid, dependable, one-woman kind of guy that I can build a good life with."

"That's what every woman says," Angela shook her head, "until she finds out that a guy like Edward Cullen is interested in her."

"That is an absurd generalization." Bella said. "And anyway, there's Mike." She sighed as they entered the hotel laundry room, which was occupied by over half-a-dozen maids.

"Mike? How is Mike an issue? Bella, get with the program. He's your _ex_."

Bella was about to respond when they were interrupted by Jessica, a co-worker and on-again, off-again frenemy of Bella's. She was on her way out of the laundry room, with a basket of freshly pressed towels on her arm. "Mike? What about Mike?" The petite girl tucked a dark curl behind her ear and sighed with annoyance. "Don't tell me you've broken up with him again. Bella, you really need to stop jerking that poor guy around. It's really manipulative. If you don't want to be with him just cut him loose properly so that he can find someone else." She rolled her eyes, turned on her heel and strode away.

" ' _Someone else_ '" Angela repeated, with air quotes. "Someone like _her_."

"Ssshh," Bella hushed her friend. Jessica was barely out of earshot. "I feel bad for her. She just went through a nasty breakup."

"Sorry for her?" Angela's eyes nearly bugged out of her head. "She has a crush on your man - well, _ex_ -man."

"Yeah, well, trust me, that right there is a sign of terminally low self-esteem, and I speak from experience."

This time Lauren interrupted. "Low self-esteem?" Lauren was another co-worker, and she was less frenemy than flat-out nemesis. It couldn't be proved, but Bella would bet good money that Lauren was the one who had framed her during last year's Missing Silverware Debacle and nearly gotten her fired. In the end, management had decided that there wasn't enough evidence against Bella, and she'd been able to keep her job, though now she fantasized about shoving Lauren off the grand staircase almost as frequently as she fantasized about sex with Edward Cullen.

Lauren tsked. "I wouldn't have thought _you_ had low self esteem Bella. After all, what's to feel bad about? Your boyfriend who would rather drink with the guys and perform for the girls than come home to you? Your art career that's never going to get off the ground, dooming you to life as a professional maid until the day you die? Oh, I know, it must be your father, the shut-in with no job at all."

Angela positively bristled; if she were a cat her tail would have been spiked like a bottlebrush. " _Excuse me_?" she started, but before she had a chance, Bella had already rounded on Lauren, her jaw clenched so tight she thought her teeth would crack.

"You see that washing machine over there?"

Lauren nodded.

"That's where I'm going to drown you if you _ever_ talk about my father again." Without giving Lauren a chance to respond, Bella pushed past the girl and Angela followed her.

"Crazy bitch," she heard Lauren mutter.

"Take a hike," Angela snapped back, and, with a few more muttered insults, Lauren left the laundry room. Under most circumstances Bella was the quiet and compromising type, but she had learned quickly that with Angela there was no such thing as compromise: only victory or defeat. And there were few things that riled Bella the way an insult to her father did.

She and Angela sorted the laundry in silence for a moment before Angela spoke. "Well, I'm impressed, Bella. Changing the locks on Mike, flirting with Edward, threatening Lauren's life. You're on a roll today."

"Yeah, except I didn't flirt with Edward, I stared at my shoes unable to speak until he got off the elevator. Big difference."

"Alright, well, tonight we'll watch some rom-coms and tomorrow you can try again. I'm clocking out now - you'll be at my place as soon as your shift is over?"

"I'll make a quick stop to pick up junk food and then I'll be there." Bella promised.

"Cool," Angela grinned as she took off her white maid's apron and let her hair down from the high ponytail she kept it in. "Catch you later."

Bella sighed as her friend departed. Angela was one of the best things about the job, especially on a day like this when Bella was feeling a little low. Unfortunately, Bella had four more hours of work left. Her shift ran until 10 pm, and she already had the beginning of a headache. Still, at least there was the encounter with Edward Cullen in the elevator to mull over, and since he wasn't checking out until tomorrow, there was always the chance that she might run into him again. Even if she didn't, she could fantasize about him, and thoughts of Edward Cullen had a way of making a long shift short.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note : Hi everyone! Thanks for your feedback on the first chapter! I'm having a blast writing this story, and it's wonderful to be able to share it with you. This is a long chapter, but the action picks up pretty early on, so hopefully you'll enjoy it. **

**A few notes: first of all, there will be fairly explicit sexual scenes in this story, though they'll be a little later down the road. Second, there will be some violence, although it won't be graphic or explicit. Finally, there will be some crude language, though hopefully nothing you find too horrifying. :)**

 **Let me know what you think of this chapter, and if you find any typos or grammatical errors that should be corrected, feel free to let me know. I'd rather have my mistakes pointed out to me so that I can fix them :) Thanks for reading!**

* * *

Situated just off of Broadway, the Ashley Eden Hotel was widely considered one of the most elegant and sophisticated luxury hotels in Manhattan. Its pedigree was second to none, and the penthouse suite, currently occupied by none other than Edward Cullen, was bigger than most houses in New York City and had been designed by some of New York's most famous architects.

All things considered, Bella believed that she was lucky to work at Ashley Eden. As a maid at one of the most upscale hotels in the city, she had a front-row seat to the kind of action that filled the society pages and celebrity gossip rags. Every day brought a new drama. Just yesterday, a married senator and his legal-aide-turned-mistress had checked into the honeymoon suite. The day before, a chart-topping boyband, fueled by enough cocaine to kill a horse, had trashed a room on the third floor. A few days before that, a distant cousin of the Queen of Denmark had gone into labor in the middle of breakfast. It made for a lively work environment.

The work itself was pretty dull. Bella was primarily responsible for laundry: usually the dirty kind, though occasionally she was instructed to deliver freshly pressed dry-cleaning to one of the upstairs suites. When she had a break or there was a lull in the workload and Bella had a few quiet moments to herself, she sat at the back of the laundry room and scribbled into her sketchbook. All of her favorite art teachers swore by daily practice, and even a few minutes of drawing could do wonders for Bella's mood.

Her dream was to be an illustrator, and her ultimate dream would be to write and illustrate her own middle-grade fantasy novels. Of course, she hadn't a chance in hell of making a living that way, especially in New York City, where she was barely scraping by while working two jobs and living in a rent-controlled apartment that had been in her family since 1965. Sometimes she wished that she could leave the city entirely, but she didn't want to be too far from her father. Charlie Swan had once been a well-respected sergeant with the NYPD, but he hadn't worked in 17 years. Not since Bella's mother died.

Anyway, Bella would be happy enough if she could just build up some savings and work as an artist in what little spare time she had. She took community college art classes on the weekends and tried to improve her skills whenever she could.

Towards the end of her shift there was a lull, and Bella had slipped into the laundry room with her sketchbook to work on a still life when her supervisor found her. As far as bosses went, Claire was fairly decent. She ruled with an iron fist, but she was usually pretty fair, and she was an unparalleled bullshit detector. Precious little ever got by Claire.

"Hello Picasso," Claire remarked drily. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but your shift isn't over yet, is it?"

"I was just taking a my break," Bella fibbed, quickly setting down her sketchbook. Technically she'd taken her break an hour ago.

"Well, break's over now. Take this up to the penthouse," Claire instructed her, handing over two designer suits in dry cleaning bags. "Did you hear me?" Claire repeated, with irritation, when Bella froze.

Bella nodded enthusiastically. "I'll head up there now." _What luck_. She might be in for her second Edward sighting of the night. The entire trip up to the 54th floor would be worth it if he answered the door and flashed her that melting grin. Unable to fight the small smile on her lips, Bella walked to the staff elevator with a slight bounce in her step. There was just half an hour left to her shift, including a possible Edward sighting, and then she could go back to Angela's and relax with her best friend. Not a bad night, given that her day had begun with changing her door locks while crying over her failed relationship.

Her heart was thumping slightly when she arrived at the penthouse door, and she found herself smoothing her free hand over her hair and down her maid's uniform. She rolled her eyes at her own behavior. It was a maid's uniform, for christ's sake, not a ballgown. Sighing, Bella knocked.

There was a moment of silence, and she was about to knock again, when she heard the brush of movement behind the door, and sensed that someone was at the peephole. Then the knob turned and the door swung open. Bella took a deep breath, feeling slightly shaky right down her toes.

But the butterflies in her stomach were all for nothing, because it was Emmett Cullen, not Edward, who had opened the door. Not that Emmett wasn't very good-looking himself. He was an enormous man, even bigger than Edward and far bulkier. He had gorgeous dimples, curly dark hair and bright blue eyes. Objectively, he was incredibly handsome. But nothing compared to the savage beauty of Edward's face, or the intensity in his eyes. At least, not to Bella.

Emmett was polite, just like his brother, but his disinterest was obvious as he accepted the dry-cleaning from her. No surprise there, of course. Emmett was the one who was married to Rosalie Rochester Cullen, Hollywood's latest and fastest rising star. "Thanks," the bulky Cullen brother said, and he looked about to close the door when he suddenly paused. "Actually," he said, "while you're here, why don't you come in and clean up. I spilled wine on the rug in the spa."

Ah, the spa. One of the many luxuries associated with the penthouse's outrageous price tag. The thought of getting down on her hands and knees to scrub the floor of Edward's spa because his brother was a klutz was less than appealing to Bella, but what the guests wanted, the guests got. Anyway, maybe it would afford her a chance to catch a glimpse of Edward before he checked out the next morning. "Of course," Bella said with a polite smile, and then she followed Emmett across the ridiculously luxurious 4000 square foot penthouse to the spa, where a vivid scarlet stain was rapidly setting into the carpet.

Red wine. Of course it was red wine. And the elaborately woven rug was white. Because the universe hated her.

Technically Bella was strictly a laundry maid and so cleaning the rooms wasn't part of her regular job description, but, she also wasn't supposed to inconvenience a guest by making him wait when she was already there. Anyway, it wasn't as if she didn't have plenty of experience with stains thanks to her hundreds of hours in the hotel laundry room.

"No problem!" Bella said brightly when Emmett gestured to the stain. Her perky response was accompanied by an inner groan. _I'm going to be here all night_.

"Great, thanks." There was a harsh jangling from the pocket of Emmett's designer jeans, and he pulled out his phone to answer it, turning away from her. "Yeah? You did? Okay, great, I'll be there. No, Edward's still out. I don't know where he is. Well, give him a call. I'll be down in a few."

Bella's shoulders sagged as Emmett hung up his phone and let himself out of the penthouse. So she was stuck cleaning the rug and Edward was nowhere to be seen. On the bright side, at least her shift was nearly over.

Bella was dabbing at the stain with a cleaning cloth when she heard the shrill beep of the penthouse keycard being activated. One of the Cullen brothers was coming back. She set down the rag, preparing to rise to her feet and announce her presence. The spa was in a room just off the suite's living room, and to get to the stain Bella had to crouch behind an enormous chaise lounge. She didn't want whoever was coming in to think that she was sneaking around.

She heard the front door slam open, with surprising force, and then a voice that didn't belong to either of the Cullen brothers assailed her ears. "You've got some balls, Cullen, thinking that you can insult me like this and get away with it!" There was so much raw aggression in the tone that Bella froze right where she was, crouched behind the chaise lounge. Her heartbeat picked up; she'd heard angry men yelling before, but this was different, charged with the threat of potential violence.

"There's no insult, Williamson." That was Edward's voice, and it was cold in a way that Bella had never heard before. "You made a business proposition, and I turned you down. That's business. Happens all the time in our line of work." His tone was much cooler, but no less dangerous, than that of the man called Williamson. Bella shifted slightly, going down on her hands and knees so that she could peer under the chaise lounge. All she could see were their legs and feet. Edward was wearing dark jeans and black combat boots. His hands were loose at his sides. He was tense, she could tell that much from his voice, but his posture seemed confident.

Williamson was wearing purple corduroy pants that were too tight for him, and cheap, fake crocodile-skin boots. He was clearly uneasy, shifting from one foot to the other like he might lash out at any moment. The two men were standing an entire room-length away from her, but they spoke so loudly that she could hear every word.

"You had no reason to turn me down! We could both cash in big-time. I have my sources, I know that the shipment hasn't been delivered yet. You could make one phone call and easily divert it to my buyer and no one would ever be the wiser."

"Except for the Volturi," Edward said. "They're expecting delivery within six hours."

Bella's heart nearly stopped. The Volturi were the most powerful crime family in the world. They were based in Italy, but they had connections in every country and their reach extended all of the way around the globe.

For a minute she couldn't breathe. _This can't be happening_. These were not small-time criminals, and this was not a small-time dispute. If the Volturi were involved there were likely millions of dollars at stake, and Edward Cullen was a more powerful figure in the criminal underworld than she had ever imagined. Her heart thudded so hard against her ribcage that it was painful. She couldn't announce her presence now. There was no knowing what Edward and Williamson might do. Her best bet was just to stay still and silent, and hope that they left the suite soon.

There was a hissing sound, and Bella realized that the man called Williamson had spat on the floor. "Fuck 'em. Fuck the Volturi. Don't tell me you're afraid of those mamma's boys."

"Far from it," Edward said coolly, "but three of my men are on their compound waiting to finalize the deal. If the merchandise doesn't show up, their lives will be forfeit. I won't get three of my men killed because a coked-up desperado with no impulse control wants me to go back on a deal I've already made so he can cash in. You're the one with debts that need paying, Williamson, not me. If you want a quick payout, find someone who's as desperate as you are."

"Well then fuck you Cullen. And if you think I'm going to take this lying down, you're wrong, man. You're gonna live to regret this."

Edward's voice had the sharp bite of whip. "Don't threaten me. It'll be the last thing you ever do."

There was a tremor in Bella's fingers that traveled steadily up her arms until her entire body was shaking.

"Oh yeah?" There was a rustling sound, as Williamson reached down, yanking up one of his pant legs to reveal a gun holster low on his calf. Bella clapped one hand to her mouth to keep herself from gasping. As Williamson pulled the gun out of the holster and straightened up, Edward's stance changed, and Bella got the impression that he had pulled a gun as well. "How about now, Cullen? Do you see things my way yet?"

"Put that away," Edward sounded irritated, not frightened. "Come on Williamson, neither of us want a mess. Clean up your act and maybe we can do business in the future sometime."

"No!" Williamson really seemed to be losing it. He sounded half-crazed. "We do business now, or you never do any business ever again." Bella watched his feet move as he took two quick steps forward.

"Stop it, Williamson, or I'll stop you," Edward barked a warning, but Williamson was still moving towards him.

There was a sharp snapping sound, three pops in a row, and then silence. It was the sound of a gun with a silencer being fired. The legs that belonged to Williamson began to wobble, and then, as if in slow motion, his body fell face-first onto the carpet. Blood so dark that it was almost black rapidly spread across the floor, staining the carpet beneath him.

Bella's vision nearly went dark. She pulled her hands away from her mouth to cover her eyes, but it was too late. The image of Williamson's body lying on the floor was burned into her brain. Her entire body was flooded with adrenaline, and all she could think was that she wanted to get out of that suite, out of that hotel, away from the body and the blood. _I want to go home._

Out in the living room, Edward wasn't making a sound, but there was a beep as someone used the keycard to enter the suite. Within a second, Bella heard Emmett's voice. "Aw, Christ! _Edward_!"

"I had to," came Edward's deep voice. "The fucker drew on me. He was going to shoot."

"Well, did you at least make sure the maid was out of earshot before you threw down?"

Bella caught her breath in a ragged gasp, freezing with her hands still clapped over her eyes. This was it. She had been caught. She was done for.

"What?" Edward asked.

"The maid, Edward. That short chick who's always making eyes at you? Christ, you _did_ make sure that the maid had left the suite before you shot him, right?"

"You let a maid in here?" The severity of the situation seemed to be rapidly dawning on Edward. Meanwhile, Bella forced herself to uncover her eyes and take a deep breath. She could see their big, booted feet. They were both standing in the living room, a few yards from each other. She could make it to the door, maybe, if she moved like lightening.

"She was cleaning the carpet in the spa when I left." Emmett answered. There was a moment of silence, and Bella made her move. She sprang to her feet, leapt over the chaise lounge with a display of agility that was entirely uncharacteristic, and raced for the door like the suite was on fire.

She hardly glanced at either of the Cullen brothers, too focused on reaching the door, but from the corner of her eye she saw their thunderstruck expressions. For a split second they both seemed frozen in surprise, but at least that gave her enough time to fling the suite door open. A crash from behind her indicated that at least one of them had sprung into action, but Bella couldn't waste any precious seconds looking back to see what was happening. She crossed the suite's threshold and tore down the hall at breakneck speed. The staff elevator was closer than the guest elevator, and probably still on the right floor since it was used much less frequently at this time of night. She skidded on the last few feet of carpet and nearly slammed her head into the elevator, but instead she hit the button with her hand and prayed that it would come in time.

There was a noise from behind her, and Bella whirled around. Edward was sprinting down the hall towards her, his jaw clenched and his face determined.

She had never found him particularly threatening before. Intimidating, sure, given his looks and his status, but never threatening. Now, though, she saw him in an entirely different light. The muscles she had been so drawn to before now seemed like a promise of deadly force, the power with which he carried himself was terrifying, and his great height was alarming.

The elevator doors opened, and Bella threw herself inside, scrambling to hit the button to close the doors.

Edward reached the elevator just as the doors were closing, and he lunged for it, trying to grip the doors and pull them open, but he was a second too late. Still, their eyes met for an instant as the doors slid shut. His light green eyes were vivid with some emotion she couldn't quite read.

"Bella, let's just talk, come on now sweetheart…"

Bella recoiled in a kind of shock as the doors closed. _Sweetheart_. A few hours ago she would have killed to hear Edward Cullen calling her sweetheart. Now she just hoped that he didn't shoot her. On the other side of the doors, she heard what sounded like Edward's fist hitting the wall in frustration.

Normally the 54-floor elevator ride felt like it took forever, but this time it seemed to pass in a flash. Time seemed to be moving very strangely, and when Bella staggered out of the elevator and into the lobby her legs were still wobbly with adrenaline. She stood there, blinking in the bright light of the lobby, and tried to piece her thoughts together. It was unthinkable to her that the lobby could still look the same as it always had, when her entire life had just changed. And just what the hell was she supposed to do now? Go to the police? To her supervisor? Go home? Forget the whole thing ever happened?

From somewhere behind her the guest elevator dinged, and with a creeping sense of dread, Bella turned and glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, she immediately caught Edward's gaze as he and Emmett strode out of the guest elevator.

Later, it would occur to Bella that the logical thing to do would have been to go to the concierge, but at the time she was overcome with the desire to flee the hotel. She took one look at the approaching Cullen brothers, and she fled from the hotel into the city streets.

Once outside, she barreled past the slew of hotel guests and tourists, searching for a quieter, darker street, somewhere she could vanish into the shadows and go unnoticed. She knew without turning around that Edward and Emmett were following her.

She quickly turned off the main street, and she was sprinting down an alley a few blocks away from the hotel when they caught up to her. When she felt a hand at her elbow she let out a short scream, and the hand closed around her upper arm like iron. With a quick tug, Edward halted her progress down the alley and pulled her back towards him. Emmett was standing next to him, and Edward pushed Bella against the wall of the alley. She opened her mouth to scream again, but Edward's other hand closed over her mouth before she could make a sound.

He leaned down to whisper to her, so that their faces were only a few inches apart. "I'm not going to hurt you," his voice was husky, his breath was hot on her neck, and it did nothing to help her heart-rate. "I just want to talk to you. Just to talk, okay?"

Bella froze.

"Hey," Edward murmured, "it's fine. I just want to talk."

Suddenly, Bella couldn't breathe. Edward's eyes darkened in concern as her breaths turned into labored gasps.

He released her, and Bella immediately turned around, away from him, and pressed her forehead to the brownstone of the neighboring apartment complex. Edward grasped her by the shoulders and turned her around, so that she was facing him. "Just breathe," he told her, "you're having a panic attack."

Bella just moaned and slid down the side of the building until she was seated, with her arms wrapped around her knees.

"She's having a panic attack." Edward reported to Emmett, as though his brother hadn't been standing there for the entire exchange.

"Well, you did just _shoot_ someone in front of her." Emmett responded matter-of-factly.

"I had no idea she was there. And I had no choice. He was going to shoot me. It was the only option." Edward said. "It was self-defense."

"Sure, whatever you say," Emmett smiled.

"I'm serious, just ask…" There was a pause as they both looked down at Bella.

"Just ask the witness?" Emmett finished for his brother.

They stared at her a moment longer. If Bella hadn't felt like her lungs were collapsing, she might have found the scene funny, the way that two enormous, hardened criminals were staring down at a tiny woman with so much concern.

Emmett cocked his head. "Should we kill her?"

Bella nearly vomited.

Edward rounded on his brother, moving like lightning to step in between Bella and Emmett. " _What_?!"

Emmett shrugged. "I mean, she did witness you murdering someone."

"We're not killing a woman!"

" _A_ woman, or _this_ woman?" Emmett asked slyly.

Now Edward's eyes were really dangerous and glinting with rage. "What the fuck is wrong with you? No one is killing anyone. Now would you just chill out so I can think this through?"

"Honey," Emmett stepped around Edward and crouched down on the balls of his feet so that he was at almost the same height as Bella. He spoke very slowly and clearly, as though she were four years old or didn't understand English very well. "Do you need money? Because we can give you lots and lots of money to stay quiet."

"Of course she needs money," Edward brushed aside his brother's question. "She's a maid in New York City. That could get complicated though. It's hard to pay off a witness without leaving a paper trail, and some times that can be almost as incriminating."

"We could send her to a non-extradition country," Emmett offered. "Like, you know, Belarus."

"Belarus!" Bella's voice was somewhere between a gasp and a sob. She pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to breathe but her horror was growing with every second.

"Thanks, Emmett, great plan." Edward said sarcastically.

"What? I used to date a model from Belarus. She was a great girl."

"So, what? Bella can never come back to the United States? Emmett, this is a real girl with a real job and a real family."

"I realize that." Emmett insisted, unconvincingly.

"Anyway, I wouldn't put it past that FBI bastard Jacob Black to track her down, no matter where we sent her. That fucker is determined."

"Yeah, and he sure has it in for you. That's some bad news man, 'cause he's an expert at breaking people, and she looks the type to fold after about five seconds of questioning. No offense," Emmett added as Bella put her head between her knees.

"Fuck you," she bit out in between gasps.

"Yeah, seriously, shut up Emmett." Edward ran a hand through his hair, anxiously, as he watched Bella rock back and forth.

Emmett ruminated in silence for a few minutes, while Bella tried to get her breathing under control.

"Seems to me there aren't too many good options here," Emmett said when he spoke up again. He began ticking the options off on his fingers. "No killing her. No one-way ticket to Belarus. No bribery… What does that leave? I mean, I guess you could always get married and then she can't be forced to testify."

Edward rounded on his brother. "Really? You're gonna make jokes at a time like this?"

Emmett shrugged in the face of his brother's rage. "It's not a joke, man. That's some real legal shit."

"It sounds like a movie. A really stupid one."

"Yeah, I actually know about it because of this script Rosalie read a while back. Shitty script. Never got made. They were trying to get Franco for the lead…"

"Getting a little off-topic here, Emmett!" Edward broke in. He reached towards Bella, possibly in a way that was supposed to be comforting, but she leaned backwards the moment he moved, pressing her back against the brownstone behind her.

"Yeah, well, anyway, the legal part is real, though."

"That's the dumbest idea I've ever…" Edward's voice trailed off into silence. He frowned pensively.

"Got a better one?"

Edward motioned his brother to silence and checked his watch. "It's 9:30 on the East Coast, which means it's only 6:30 in Vegas. If we take the jet we can get there tonight. Williamson won't be reported missing for days, and if we get Carlisle's guy to take care of the body, then we could be married long before anyone realizes that there's something up."

"And by the time they do realize," Emmett laughed, "they won't be able to make her testify. Just like that," he snapped his fingers, "no more witness."

"Get our Vegas people on the phone," Edward told his brother, "tell them to rush the marriage license through. I want one of them waiting for me, with the license in hand, when we land. Then call Carlisle."

Emmett chuckled. "Boy, is he gonna lose his shit."

There was a hiss of irritation when Edward exhaled. "Tell him that we need his guy to take care of the body tonight. Tell him about Williamson, but not about Bella or the… marriage." Edward hesitated at the word, and his tone changed. "Then call for the car and let the pilot know that we need the G4 up and running."

As the fog of her panic attack receded, Bella picked up her head from between her knees. They weren't serious. Of course not. It wasn't as if they could actually be serious about any of this.

Although this would be a very strange moment for them to stage an elaborate practical joke.

Bella cocked her head, blinking up at them. Emmett had pulled out his phone and was starting to dial, and Edward was studying her with all of his usual intensity, his gaze sweeping her frame as though he were reading her body. The lights from a passing vehicle flashed across his face, illuminating the curve of his lips and jaw. He could have been a fallen angel, gorgeous and dangerous, indecipherable but resolute.

"The car should be here in a few minutes," he told her quietly.

The truth hit her like a hammer. He was perfectly serious.

The legal loophole was true; Bella could remember her father, back when he was still with NYPD, lamenting the fact that perpetrators' spouses could not be compelled to testify.

In Edward's haste to protect his own freedom, and her life, he had settled upon the most absurd solution imaginable.

"Is there anything you need to pick up before we leave?" Edward asked her.

Bella scrambled to her feet, shaking her head. "Oh no. Uh-uh. Like hell am I going anywhere with _you_." Bella likely would have been more convincing if she hadn't just had a full-blown panic attack, but she pulled herself together. She was the daughter of a retired police sergeant, for God's sake. Her father had been taking her to the shooting range she was six years old. She was not a victim.

"It'll be purely a legality," Edward said softly in what he probably thought was a soothing tone, though it was hard to find a tall, powerful and trained killer particularly comforting. "Nothing weird, no sex expected, nothing like that. Just a piece of paper to keep you from destroying my life."

Bella thought her head would explode when he started talking about sex. As if she'd ever want to share a bed with _him_! Mr. Pyscho Killer. Sex with Edward Cullen! As if! Firmly repressing any and all memories of a year's worth of fantasizing about precisely that possibility, she clenched her jaw and turned up her chin. "Forget about it. You're insane."

Emmett laughed and put his hand to his chest as if he were touched. "Aww. I can tell already that this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship."

"Look, Emmett, why don't you give us a minute." Edward said. "Make the calls. I'll see you in the car."

"Will do," Emmett said. He paused, casting a final, amused glance at Bella before walking away.

Edward and Bella were left staring warily at each other. He held up his hands non-threateningly, and took a cautious step closer, so that they were only a few feet apart. Bella's instinct was to look at her feet, as was her habit when she was uncomfortable, but she forced herself to look up and meet his eyes instead.

He stared levelly back at her, and she found herself noticing things about him that she had never been close enough to see before. His lashes were long and dark, adding to the natural brilliance of his eyes, and there was just the barest brush of stubble on his chin, accentuating the masculinity of his face.

He watched her as she stared at him, taking in all of the details, and it defied all reason, but there was something oddly calming about his presence. After a moment, she found herself exhaling, and some of her tension evaporated along with her breath.

That was when Edward spoke to her, softly. "Look, I understand how you feel about me right now. I can't blame you, but I really do think that this is the safest solution for everyone involved. It's the only way we can both be protected."

"I don't need to be protected!" Bella insisted. "You do! The only people I need protection from are you and your family!"

Edward shook his head. "That's not entirely true. I have business associates who have a lot of money invested in me, and my business. Even if I called my entire family off and gave you my word that I'd never hurt you, there's no knowing what these associates might do if they found out about you. They'd probably kill you themselves to make sure that you don't send me to prison and wreck our business deals. If my enemies got you, well, they might start threatening you to make you testify. This is the best option for everyone involved. With the resources at my disposal, I can keep you and your family safe, and if you're married to me, then you can't be forced to testify." His eyes darkened. "If you have a boyfriend, you can keep seeing him, it'll just have to be discrete."

"I don't," Bella mumbled.

"What?"

"I don't have a boyfriend," she repeated clearly, looking up at him. She wasn't sure why it was so important that he know that, given that she'd decided to despise him forever only a few minutes ago, but it was. Oddly enough, he looked glad.

She sighed. "I understand what you're saying. And I hate you for putting me in this position, but if, legally, it does offer the most protection for both of us… then I'll do it. I'll marry you."

It was the strangest moment of her life, and as Edward helped her into the sleek black limousine that had pulled up alongside them and was idling at the curb, Bella felt as though she had fallen into another world.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Hi everyone! Thanks for your words of encouragement! The inspiration has really been flowing for this story, so I'm posting chapters as soon as I finish them. I do have a few quick notes:**

 **I've had some questions about my updating schedule. I haven't really finalized a strict schedule yet, but I'm tentatively planning to update this story about every three days. I'm expecting to post chapter four either on Sunday night or on Monday morning (central time).**

 **Also, for those of you looking for more Twilight FanFiction centered around crime families/the mafia, the lovely SunflowerFran just told me about an awesome Mobward contest that her facebook group hosted a few weeks ago. I'm going to write the link in my profile for those of you who'd like to check out the stories that were entered in the competition.**

 **Happy Friday, and happy reading!**

 **-Rebecca**

* * *

Emmett was waiting for them inside of the limo. He was on the phone and from the expression on his face, the conversation wasn't going well. "Right. Got it. Call me back when you know more." Emmett concluded. He hung up and let the phone drop in his lap.

"What was that?" Edward asked.

"Hopefully nothing," Emmett answered, but the brothers exchanged a look before they both turned to Bella, who was watching them closely. "…I'll fill you in later."

Bella had never been inside of a limousine before. Actually, that wasn't true. She'd ridden in one when she was twelve years old. The day they buried her mother. Pushing that horrible memory from her mind - she could only stand so much trauma in one evening - Bella studied her surroundings. There was a row of plush white seats on one side of the limo and the other side featured a large tv screen and a bar. Bella sat down, warily keeping enough space for another person in between her body and Emmett's. Edward sat on the other side of her, quite close, and casually stretched one arm along the top of the seats, behind her shoulders.

It was hard to tell how quickly the limo was moving when they were so well insulated from the wind and the sounds of the road, but it had to have been traveling fast, because they arrived at the airfield much sooner than she had expected.

The driver opened the door, and helped Bella out onto the pavement of the runway. The cold wind of an April night in New York whipped her hair back, and she surveyed the waiting jet with apprehension. She had been expecting a small plane, but this was a decent sized aircraft, and the door was already open, with the built-in stairs extended down. It was time to board.

Emmett walked ahead, easily ascending the steps and vanishing into the interior of the plane, but Edward paused by Bella's side, standing with her as she stared at the jet. He hooked one thumb into his pants pocket and shifted his weight, looking down at her. Even in silence he was a powerful presence, and even though she couldn't make out the details of his face in the darkness, she found that she couldn't look away from him.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked her. It was somewhere between a challenge and an invitation.

It was a question that was impossible to answer. "Let's go," Bella said instead.

She started to climb the stairs, but Bella had only taken a few steps when she was assailed by a wave of doubt so powerful that she stumbled and had to grip the railing to keep from falling.

 _Why are you doing this?_ She asked herself. True, right now it felt as though she had no other option, but she was a smart woman. Surely she could think of something else, or at least kick up a fuss to try to stall Edward. If she could put him off a day or two that might give her time to think of another solution.

Ahead of her, the dimly lit interior of the jet both beckoned her forward and scared her more than she had ever been scared in her entire life. It was either the start of an adventure or the moment she'd live to regret for as long as she lived. Probably both. She shivered.

Edward had stopped just behind her, and she felt his hand at the small of her back, a light touch that nevertheless managed to be powerfully steadying. Almost unconsciously, she found herself leaning backwards slightly, into his touch.

 _Bella, if you're doing this it has to be for the right reasons. It has to be because you honestly think it's the smartest and safest decision, under the circumstances, and not because this is the first exciting thing to happen to you in years._

She was so confused. In one evening her life had gone from simple, if slightly depressing, to a mess of contradictory feelings and nonsensical impulses. Every time she blinked she saw Williamson's body hitting the floor, but when she looked at Edward he gazed back at her with an expression that somehow managed to calm her mind and bring a thrill to her body all at once. She felt dizzy.

 _What the hell am I doing?_

She needed her father. No, she already knew what his advice would be. He would tell her to turn around and run, and not to stop until she got to the nearest police station. She needed Angela, who could talk her through any decision. She needed her mother.

The thought of her mother was enough to remind Bella of what was at stake. Edward was right. Like it or not, in one night she had found herself embroiled in the criminal underworld, thrust in well over her head, and she would be better off as the wife of Edward Cullen than as a frightened witness on the run. This way, she could protect the people she loved.

So Bella Swan took a deep breath, and she finished climbing the stairs.

The inside of the jet was like no airplane she had ever been on. The twelve seats were enormous white recliners, arranged in small groups around shining hardwood tables. There was one man already on the plane;he was tall and lanky, with messy dark hair and large, bright brown eyes framed by horn-rimmed glasses. He was actually fairly cute, though not Bella's type. He looked like a techie, and the elaborate laptop setup on the table beside him only confirmed Bella's assessment.

She brushed Edward's sleeve. "Who is that?" she asked him when he glanced at her.

"That's Eric Yorkie. He's our communications expert, computer whiz and hacker extraordinaire all rolled into one. He's a lifesaver. We bring him everywhere."

"You have your own hacker?"

"Of course." Edward said, as if it were obvious.

"Welcome to the 21st century," Bella muttered to herself. "Even the mobsters are tech-savvy."

Edward laughed.

Emmett moved briskly down the plane, pausing to clap Eric on the shoulder. "Eric, my man, wait till you get a load of this," he gestured back to Edward and Bella, and then leaned towards Eric conspiratorially. "For the record, my first suggestion was Belarus." He pounded Eric's shoulder once more and continued walking.

Eric frowned bemusedly. "That… means nothing to me." He squinted at Bella. "Who is this?" His hair was mussed, as though he'd been dragged out of bed unexpectedly, and the T-shirt he wore with sweatpants was on inside out.

Edward lightly touched Bella's shoulder. "This is Bella Swan. She's my… fiancée."

Bella raised a hand awkwardly. "Hi."

Eric's eyebrows jumped and his eyes widened. "…Hi."

"We're getting married tonight in Vegas," Edward said matter-of-factly.

"Ah." Eric's glance travelled quickly between Edward and Bella, and then back again. "Okay!" He said finally. "Sure. Great. Why not? Congratulations." He shrugged and sat down in one of those ridiculously spacious and well-padded reclining seats.

Edward led Bella towards Eric. "Why don't you two get to know each other? I'm going to have a word with the pilot."

Bella cautiously took the seat across from Eric and they studied each other in silence for a minute. Bella couldn't quite stifle her urge to explain herself. "You see, about this engagement…" she began, but Eric held up a hand.

"Trust me," he said, "I don't need to know. I'm probably happier oblivious anyway." He offered her a small smile, which she returned. At the back of the plane, Emmett's phone rang, and he answered, gruffly.

"Hey, Eric?" Edward called from the front of the plane.

"Yeah?"

"Could you get in touch with Brittany and ask her to book us a honeymoon suite at one of our usual hotels in Vegas?"

"Sure." Eric booted up his laptop.

"Um, Eric?" Bella leaned towards the tech whiz, keeping her voice down.

"Yeah?"

"Do you suppose you could ask her to, um, book a honeymoon suite with _two_ beds?"

Eric blinked. "You want a honeymoon suite with two beds? Doesn't that kind of defeat the purpose of, you know, a honeymoon suite?"

Bella blushed. "I guess so…" she agreed reluctantly.

Eric hesitated, watching her closely. "You know what?" He said kindly, "I'll see what I can do."

"Um, thanks," Bella said. She was momentarily distracted by Emmett's phone call, which was growing rather heated. The large man was gesturing animatedly as he barked orders into his cell phone.

There was a rattling sound, and Bella saw Eric retrieve a pill bottle from his pocket and unscrew the lid. He shook a few small white tablets into his palm. "Want a Xanax?" He asked her.

"What?"

"Trust me," Eric gestured to the Cullen brothers, "it'll help. No one who's marrying into this family should have to do it unmedicated."

"Wow." What a ringing endorsement. "Um, no thanks. I'm think I'm okay."

Eric shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said, replacing the pills and screwing the lid back on.

"Edward!" Emmett had just hung up, and his expression was thunderous. Bella felt her stomach clench in alarm. The Cullen brothers were gorgeous when they were happy, but they could be downright terrifying when they got angry. "That was Florida again. We've got trouble in Miami."

"Was it _him_?" Edward demanded sharply.

"Too soon to say for sure," Emmett said, "but all signs point to yes."

Edward swore harshly. "That _fucking_ Jasper Hale! What the hell is wrong with him?"

Emmett glanced at his brother meaningfully. "I think we both know what's wrong with him."

"He's asking for a bullet between the eyes. Get Florida back on the line. I'm going to make that bastard wish he'd never been born."

Silently, Bella turned back to Eric, who was scanning his laptop screen intently, and poked his upper arm.

He turned to regard her through his horn-rimmed glasses. "Yes?"

She gestured to the pill bottle he'd wedged between his knees. "I'll take two."

"Smart woman."

* * *

The Xanax knocked Bella out, and she was asleep long before they reached cruising altitude. She didn't wake up until the mounting pressure in her ears told her that they were beginning their descent into . . . Las Vegas? In her sleep-addled state Bella could hardly remember where they were headed. Her mouth tasted like cotton, her whole body was stiff and she needed to pee.

She shifted, and as she moved she realized that someone had draped a knit blanket over her. She was grateful, because the temperature in the plane had dropped several degrees since their departure and she was still clad in only her maid's uniform, which was not particularly warm.

Bella tugged the blanket up to her chin and rolled over in her recliner, intending to doze for as long as she could. She had to be at work in the morning after all. Or… did she?

Bella's eyes popped open. _Did she?_ Would she still be working at the Ashley Eden? She had assumed so, but now that she thought about it, it might be a little awkward. Were they going to tell people about the marriage, or was it going to be a secret unless she was actually asked to testify? Come to think of it, she hadn't really thought this through at all. She'd been totally focused on Edward, on Williamson, on the murder and the possibility that she might be asked to testify. She hadn't given much consideration to what her day-to-day life would be like from now on.

Bella sat up, yawning deeply and rubbing sleep out of her eyes. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she realized that Eric was no longer sitting across from her. He had been replaced by Edward, who was watching her closely, his eyes dancing with dark humor. "Hey… wifey," he grinned wickedly. The man looked awfully happy for someone who was about to be forced to marry a woman he barely knew just to keep himself out of prison.

"Hey," Bella's voice was still rough with sleep. She wrapped the blanket around her and hoped that the cabin lights were too dim for Edward to see what a mess she looked. "How's Florida?"

His expression morphed from mischievous to downright devious. He checked his watch. "I'd say we have, oh, one hour before Jasper Hale has a tag on his toe."

Bella wasn't sure who this Jasper fellow was, but she winced on his behalf anyway. "Charming," she muttered. She bit her lip, unsure how to broach the questions she wanted to ask.

"What is it?" Edward asked almost immediately. Christ, he was sharp, and he'd learned how to read her face in about five seconds flat.

"What are we going to do after the … ceremony?" Bella asked. She couldn't quite bring herself to say the word 'wedding'. It was all just too weird.

Edward shrugged. "Anything. Whatever you want." He said easily.

Bella frowned. That seemed like a suspiciously simple answer. And there was something scary about how open it left things. She was accustomed to having rules. Schedules that had to be kept, budgets that had to be balanced, bills that had to be paid, laws that had to be obeyed. But she was realizing that Edward's life was different. While she was busy stopping at traffic lights and obeying the rules of the road, he was blazing down the freeway at a hundred miles an hour, top down, no seatbelt on. It was exciting and exhilarating and also sort of frightening; she wasn't like him, she wasn't used to being able to get away with anything. She wasn't used to being able to escape the consequences.

And Edward was sitting there, watching her with a lopsided smirk that was oddly possessive, and perversely, his good mood made Bella feel slightly irritated.

She had the mother of all headaches, the Xanax had hit her so hard she could barely remember her own name, and the man she had resolved to have a civil but cool relationship with was staring at her with a hungry expression that made her feel anything but cool.

"I have a boyfriend, you know," Bella told him groggily. It was a stupid thing to say, but somehow it seemed like the only thing that might knock that smirk off his face. And it worked.

Edward frowned. "You said you didn't."

"Well, I sort of do - did." She corrected herself. "Well, I did. Until yesterday, actually. Or, the day before yesterday. Is it past midnight? I don't know what time it is. Anyway, the point is that I had a boyfriend until quite recently, and we'd been together for ten years… Although, it was probably more like nine and a quarter years if you subtract all the days we spent broken up."

"You broke up before?"

"Yes… periodically."

" _Periodically_? How intriguing."

Now she really felt stupid, but since she had started the conversation she might as well be honest. "I broke up with him a few times. Sometimes he broke up with me. Sometimes we broke up mutually. Then we would get back together. Usually mutually. Sometimes one of us was a little reluctant." She should really stop talking while she waited for her brain to wake up.

Edward's lips twitched in amusement. "Sounds healthy."

Bella was not amused. "Relationships are complicated."

Edward laughed softly. "I know that well enough." He shifted, to look out the window, and Bella followed his gaze. Her breath left her in a soft gasp. The plane was low enough now that she could see the brilliant colors and flashing lights of the Las Vegas skyline at night. It was nothing like New York.

Edward was smiling again. "Have you ever been to Vegas before?"

Bella shook her head, shifting closer to the window so that she could stare down at the glittering, bejeweled landscape of the desert city. She'd never been particularly interested in visiting Las Vegas; it had always struck her as a sleazy, unpleasant sort of place, and it wasn't like she could afford to gamble on her salary, but she was startled by how strikingly beautiful it was from the air.

She was still glued to the window a few minutes later when the jet touched down on a private airstrip a few miles outside of the city. "Welcome to Las Vegas, Bella," she murmured to herself.

She glanced at Edward, and found that he was leaning forward. He seemed tense, humming with some kind of anticipation that she couldn't quite define, and when he caught her watching him, he grinned. "I think you're going to like this town."


	4. Chapter 4

There was a cold bite to the wind as it tore across the runway, tossing Bella's already mussed hair back from her face and making her catch her breath in surprise. She had expected it to be hot - Las Vegas was in the desert after all - but the temperature was cool and the breeze was cutting.

She followed Edward down the steps to the tarmac, the knit blanket from the plane still wrapped around her. She felt uncomfortable and uncertain, in need of water, a bathroom, and some answers. She tried to channel Angela, who would have been much better prepared for a situation like this than Bella was. What would Angela be doing right now? Demanding answers from Edward and badgering him relentlessly until he provided them? Or would Angela be so caught up in the excitement of an unexpected elopement to a Cullen that she'd just ride the wave? Knowing Angela, it could have gone either way. Bella's best friend was as spontaneous as she was loyal.

"Is there something you forgot to tell me, Emmett?" Edward asked as he stepped onto the runway.

Emmett, who had also conked out during the flight and still seemed to be in the process of waking up, yawned loudly. "What do you mean?" he asked carelessly.

"You know… something that might explain what _Rosalie_ is doing here?" Edward pointed to a gleaming white Bentley that was parked to the side of the airfield. As Bella watched, the door opened and the lights came on inside of the car, illuminating the figures of two people. "You didn't tell her, did you?" Edward asked his brother accusingly.

Emmett shrugged. "Look man, I don't keep secrets from Rosalie. It always ends badly, believe me."

"Oh, but you didn't think asking her to come out here would end badly?"

"I didn't ask her," Emmett said. "She and Alice were in Palm Springs, and that's just a short flight from here, so they decided to come out and see the show."

Edward stopped moving so suddenly that Bella walked into his back.

He turned around, placing his heavy hands on her shoulders to steady her, but he was looking over her head, at his brother. "Alice came out with her?"

Emmett snorted. "Yeah, probably just to laugh at your sorry ass, though. I wouldn't expect a touching reunion; she's still on strike."

Edward rolled his eyes, "she's not on strike."

"Oh, but she is." Emmett rejoined. "She's on strike from the family business, she's on strike from Miami, and she is most definitely on strike from being your sister."

"She's just throwing a fit," Edward argued. "She's used to getting her own way, and now that it isn't happening she's having a tantrum. It'll settle down in a few weeks."

Bella leaned towards Eric, who now looked twice as rumpled as he had at the beginning of the flight. "Edward has a sister?"

Eric blinked blearily at her. "Yeah." He murmured back. "Alice. She's the youngest. Less high-profile than her brothers. She used to run the family gig down in Florida."

"Florida?"

Eric nodded. "Mostly the family is based out of California, but they have major operations in a few different US cities. Rosalie and Emmett handle Vegas and LA. Esme and Carlisle have Washington DC. Edward has New York, and Alice has, well, _had_ , Miami."

Bella frowned. "Isn't Miami where that Jasper guy is that Edward wants to kill?"

Eric leaned towards her, lowering his voice even further. "Therein lies the problem." He widened his eyes as if he had just imparted significant information, but Bella wasn't sure exactly what he was trying to get at.

Edward sighed as two women stepped out of the Bentley. "Here comes trouble."

The women made an odd duo. One of them was very tall and dressed to the nines, while the other was much shorter and was wearing designer jeans and a simple black sweater.

As the women walked closer, it didn't take Bella long to identify the taller one as Rosalie.

Bella had seen Rosalie before, though only at a distance when the movie star visited the Ashley Eden. She had sort of hoped that up close, the woman might be a little less stunningly perfect than she was in the magazines, but no such luck. The bright white lights that illuminated the airfield brought out every lovely detail of the star's face.

Rosalie Rochester, (she was still billed as Rosalie Rochester despite her marriage to Emmett) had the violet eyes of Elizabeth Taylor. Her hair was a shining golden blonde mass of waves that fell to her lower back. She was wearing an itty-bitty romper, the kind of thing that only a movie star could pull off. It was a delicate shade of coral and there was a diamond shaped cutout over her stomach, which revealed an expanse of flat, tan abs and accentuated an impossibly slender waist. Even in person, her long legs looked airbrushed, and in her three inch heels she had to be over six feet.

She was so perfect it was almost eerie, like a photoshoot suddenly brought to life.

Rosalie came to a halt next to Emmett and, as the actress's perfect lips parted, Bella held her breath, hoping that the many rumors she'd heard about Rosalie being a difficult and unpleasant diva were just gossip mag fodder.

The star eyed Bella disdainfully. "Please tell me she's a high-end escort you've hired to role-play maid and master with, the costume is a prop, and she'll be out of your life as soon as the time you've paid for is over."

 _Ouch_. Not just rumors then.

Edward eyed his sister-in-law coolly. "I already know that Emmett caved and told you everything, Rosalie, so don't bother pretending. You know who Bella is, and you know what we're here to do."

"Oh yes," Rosalie said breezily. "Cruise the strip, check out Hoover Dam, play some high-stakes poker… tie the knot with a pleb after a six hour engagement…"

"Rosalie…" Edward growled in warning, but Emmett had already raised his hands in an attempt to defuse the tension.

"It's handled, Rose," Emmett told his wife. "We've talked about it, and Edward thinks it's for the best."

"Well Edward is going to single-handedly ruin this family in one night." Rosalie responded tightly. "If this is the only solution he could come up with for this little… problem, then he needs to think harder."

Next to Rosalie, the other woman, who was presumably Edward's sister Alice, was watching the confrontation closely. Alice and Rosalie looked as different from each other as night from day. Alice wore her dark hair cut short and spiky around a pale face of almost ethereal prettiness. At a distance there seemed to be a kind of dreaminess to her, a fairytale-loveliness, and Bella had a hard time believing that Alice was really the sister of Edward and Emmett Cullen. But when Alice turned her head, and Bella caught a glimpse of the hard, appraising gleam in her eyes, she saw the family resemblance after all. Alice Cullen burned with the same inner intensity as both of her brothers.

Right now, most of Alice's intensity seemed to be directed at Edward. She was staring at him with an expression that was acidic at best and murderous at worst.

"This is not the time," Edward said firmly. He reached for Bella, his hands once again settling on her shoulders, almost possessively. "We have it settled."

Suddenly, Alice's gaze snapped to Bella, and a small frown line appeared on her perfect brow.

"Bella, walk with me," Alice commanded abruptly, and before Bella knew what was happening, the small, but surprisingly strong young woman had gripped her hand and was pulling her across the pavement of the runway.

"Hey!" Edward called after them, but Alice just raised her arm and flipped him the bird without even turning around. Bella's eyes widened, but when Alice turned back to her, the woman's smile was surprisingly kind.

"So, talk me through this Bella," Alice said as they walked. "You're a maid at the… Ashley Eden, is it?"

"Right." Bella spoke mildly, and kept her tone light. She wasn't sure what to make of this Cullen yet, but she knew that if Alice was anything like her brothers, she wasn't someone that Bella would want to run afoul of.

"And you were in the hotel suite cleaning when Edward came in with, who was it?"

"Um, Williamson," Bella answered. The name was burned into her brain.

"And then Edward shot him."

"Well, they argued first," Bella said. "Williamson was threatening him, and I think he pulled a gun on Edward first. But then, yes, Edward shot him."

"And then, what? The caveman dragged you onto an airplane and flew you halfway across the country so that he could make sure that you'd never testify against him?"

Bella opened her mouth to defend Edward, but the truth was that Alice's summary was more or less on point. "Kind of," she admitted.

"And how do _you_ feel about all of this?"

"I mean…" Bella had been trying to answer exactly that question in her mind a few minutes earlier, but without much success.

"Let me put it this way, Bella, what's your plan?"

Bella flushed, staring down at her feet so that she didn't have to admit to the sleek and sophisticated Alice that she didn't have one, that she was completely out of her depth.

Alice licked her lips and rephrased the question. "I mean, you get married in Vegas in the middle of the night to a billionaire criminal. Next step?"

"I think… I think I was just going to take a breath, and talk to my best friend, and figure it out."

Alice stopped and turned to face Bella. "Your best friend?"

"Angela." Bella exhaled, and was surprised by how shaky her breath was. The strain of the past few hours was really getting to her. "She always knows what to do."

Alice smiled. "That's great. I used to have a friend like that." Her smile dimmed a little.

"Oh no," Bella said suddenly. "I just remembered… I was supposed to go to her apartment for movie night. Oh my god, how could I forget? She's probably freaking out right now. I need to call her." Bella frantically ran her hands over the pockets in her maid's uniform, but they were too small for anything bigger than her wallet. Her cell phone was still sitting in her locker back in the basement of the Ashley Eden.

Alice reached for Bella's hands, clasping them between her own. "You'll get in touch with her," she said reassuringly. "I'll make sure of that. But first you need a plan. What are you going to tell people? How do you think the people in your life will react when they hear that you've randomly eloped with Edward Cullen?"

"I have no idea," Bella admitted. "I honestly don't even know how I would go about telling them."

Alice watched her intently. "Are you sure you want to go through with this?" she asked abruptly.

Bella hesitated. "I… what?"

"You don't seem prepared for this, and frankly, I don't know why you would want to be. I did a little research about you on the way over. You lead a quiet life, but you've always stood on your own two feet, and you seem to have your head on straight. Edward lives in a very different, dark world, and you barely know him. Now you've gotten roped into this plan of his, and I don't think you should go along with it until you've clarified to yourself exactly what you're getting out of this situation."

Bella took a deep breath, holding Alice's gaze as they studied each other. She got the impression that Alice was trying to be on Bella's side and look out for her best interests, which was a little strange, given that Alice was Edward's sister and had only known Bella for five minutes.

Alice seemed to sense Bella's hesitation, and she chuckled. "You can speak frankly Bella. What little love I had for my brother when we were kids has since vaporized." There was a hard edge to Alice's voice that made Bella believe her. "If you tell me that you want all of this to go away, I can give you money and send you wherever you want to go. Trust me, I'd love the chance to stick it to Edward."

"That's… really nice of you?" Bella said uncertainly. She wondered if it was a bad sign that Edward's own sister seemed to be plotting his downfall. "But the truth is that New York City is my home. Even if I wanted to leave the city, I couldn't go without my father, and he'll never leave."

"He's retired from NYPD, right?" Alice said. "We looked you up, remember?" She smiled when Bella looked startled. "Just to see who we were dealing with."

"Yeah, he's, kind of retired. Anyway, he's lived in the city his whole life… and my mother is buried there. He's not going anywhere. So I can't just up and leave."

Alice nodded as she put the pieces together. "So you want to stay in the city and protect your father. And this marriage seemed like the best option."

"Better than getting killed, or dragged into a trial, or fleeing to Belarus," Bella answered honestly. From some distance behind them, where the others were waiting, she could hear the sounds of Edward and Rosalie, still deep in their argument.

"Okay, so, what are you going to tell people?"

"I haven't the faintest idea," Bella said simply.

"This is going to be a big deal, Bella. We're talking about a very high profile, very wealthy man up and marrying a maid. To say nothing of the fact that your new sister-in-law will be Rosalie Rochester. You're going to be in a whole new world, and frankly, a lot of it is going to be unpleasant and kind of scary. You need to decide exactly what you want, or else Edward will do everything his way, and once Edward takes the reins, its hard to get them back again. Trust me - I know." Alice patted Bella's shoulder. "You need a game plan."

There was a pause as Bella tried to imagine what a game plan for a sham marriage to a billionaire criminal might look like. "I haven't got one," she concluded, finally.

This seemed to have been the answer Alice was waiting for, because she sighed in satisfaction. "I suspected as much," she said, and she smiled. Her eyes sparkled but she had the grin of a shark smelling blood. "Good thing I have one…"


	5. Chapter 5

FBI Agent Jacob Black prided himself on rarely being taken by surprise. When he investigated someone, he went after him with everything he had. The case became his life, and his target was his obsession. Knowledge was power; he studied his target, watching him constantly and learning everything there was to know about his life. Jacob poured over lists of past romantic partners; he committed every member of his target's family to memory; he analyzed even the most incidental of characteristics. Vices, passions, addictions, weaknesses and secrets - he studied them all.

The details were essential. The mobsters Jacob tracked were some of the best in the business: extremely intelligent, highly charismatic, with the skill-set, connections, and resources necessary to remain perpetually one step ahead of law-enforcement.

Edward Cullen was a prime example. Born to a family living in dire poverty, he had been a young boy when his father and uncle began the arms dealing business that would go on to earn the family its billions. Edward had come of age as the Cullens transitioned from rags to riches, and as such he had a foot in two different worlds. He had retained the hunger of the streets but masked it with the subtle finesse and lethal polish of the elite. He was a hybrid, who combined the most dangerous characteristics of both worlds. It would take nothing less than the best to bring Edward Cullen down.

Jacob was the best. He'd advanced through the Bureau's ranks with unprecedented speed, and brought in perps previously thought untouchable. Now, it was Edward Cullen who had his attention, and Jacob was playing the long game. Edward was good, so it would take painstaking work and thousands of hours of surveillance to build a case, but Jacob had been stalking Edward for months, watching his every move and recording each detail. Edward couldn't so much as buy a soda without Jacob knowing about it.

That morning, it was with a sense of self-satisfaction that Jacob went through his regular routine: pushups, protein shake, cardio and a cold shower. It was his policy not to browse the internet until he sat down for breakfast. And so it was, that, as he tucked into his usual morning meal of avocado and egg on whole wheat toast, Jacob picked up his smartphone and opened his internet browser. Hm. Sixty-five unread work emails since 6am this morning. That was a bit unusual.

The most recent one was titled _Have You Seen This?_ It was from his fellow agent, Amy Ritlow. Jacob frowned and clicked on the link. He scanned the contents of the email and then sprayed a mouthful of half-chewed egg onto his dining room table.

"What?" He shouted, glaring down at his phone as though it had bitten him. "That's not possible."

The email consisted only of a series of links to various news, gossip and entertainment sites:

* * *

 _ **Billionaire Bad-Boy Edward Cullen Elopes with Hotel Maid in Las Vegas - Real Life Cinderella Story - Click for the Full Story**_

 _Meet Rosalie Rochester's New Sister-in-Law (You Won't Believe What She Does for a Living!)_

 **A Day of Mourning: Manhattan's Most Desirable Bachelor Down for the Count**

 _Entertainment Exclusive: Rosalie Rochester OUTRAGED by Brother-in-Law's Choice of Wife - Threatens Divorce_

 **It Can Happen, Ladies: Hotel Maid Ditches Broom, Becomes Billionaire's Bride**

 _ **Mysterious: America's Shadiest Entrepreneur Makes Puzzling Marital Choice - Leaves NYC Swirling With Rumors**_

* * *

"What bullshit is this?" Jacob selected the top link and sped-read the first paragraph. _Hotel… Maid… Isabella Swan… twenty-five-year-old art student… Secret elopement in Las Vegas… photographers captured images of the newlyweds getting into a limo following an early morning marriage in Nevada…_

There was even a photo. It was slightly blurry, but Edward's face was quite recognizable. He was standing next to the limo, glowering at whoever was taking the photo while a small woman with dark hair climbed into the limo. Her face wasn't visible, but where her skirt rode up Jacob could make out a pale, slender leg. Jacob focused on her, and his eyes narrowed intently, as though he sought to read her secrets off the skin of her thigh.

This was impossible. Edward had been under hardcore surveillance for months, but Jacob had never heard of Isabella Swan. Either this was some kind of hoax, some kind of mistake, or somewhere along the line, Jacob's surveillance team had missed something huge.

Deciding to reject that possibility entirely, Jacob looked down at his plate, violently speared a slice of avocado with his fork, and smeared it all over his toast, but he was too irritated to actually eat it. He dropped the toast, shifted in his seat, aggressively scratched the back of his neck, and tried to think about something else, but his gaze kept returning to the screen in front of him. "Un-fucking-believable…" he muttered, and he reached for his phone.

He punched in the number to his office and picked at his toast while he waited for someone to answer the phone.

"Gooood Moooorning. This is Brian Whitehall speaking."

Jacob rolled his eyes. Brian was his least favorite agent. "Brian," he barked. "Get the team on the line. I want everyone ready to go within the hour. Edward Cullen has eloped with an unknown. We have no idea what this means, but it could indicate any number of things. We don't yet know what connection she has to the underworld, but we have to find out immediately. This could be a way in for us…. Or a sign that we don't know Edward Cullen half as well as we think we do... Fucking bastard. Who the hell is Isabella Swan?"

"You sound a little discombobulated there, chief. What's the problem, were you hoping to marry her yourself?"

"What's the problem?" Jacob pinched the bridge of his nose. "We've been trailing his every move for months. No way should he have been able to get through an entire courtship and engagement without us so much as knowing the girl existed! No, I'm telling you, something is up, something big. We need to find a way to make this work to our advantage… I want to know everything there is to know about Isabella Swan. Dig into her online presence. See if there's social media you can access before Cullen shuts it down. Talk to her family, her friends, her coworkers, her first grade teacher. I want to know everything about anything that's ever happened to her. Ask them about Edward, but don't _only_ ask them about Edward - Isabella herself is now a person of significant interest. We're going to have to profile her with just as much detail as the rest of the family. . . If she got bronchitis the summer before sixth grade, I want to know about it. If she has an unpaid parking ticket from her first year with a license, I want a report. By 5 pm today I want to know what color toothbrush she uses!"

Jacob hung up without waiting for Brian's answer and returned to the article he'd been reading before. He scrolled down to the photo, and glared at Isabella Swan's silhouette. "I don't know who you are, Ms Swan, but I doubt you're ready for what's coming."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Hi everyone! I have a few important updates. First of all, I wanted to let you know why this update has been such a long time coming: I had major surgery right after chapter 5 was posted. It was scheduled (and very necessary) surgery, but for a while afterwards I was on too many painkillers to write. Thankfully now I've been weaned off of the heavier stuff and I'm not so sleepy, so I'm back to writing and thrilled to be feeling more like myself. I had known that this surgery was coming since January, and was really dreading it, so I can't tell you what a relief it is to have it behind me. I feel like a new person, and every morning when I wake up I feel a little bit more like myself.**

 **Second of all, I've made a facebook page (link in my profile). I'm not usually that good at social media, so I wasn't going to, but I've realized that it might be a useful way for me to stay in touch with you. It would have been handy when I went in for surgery, because it's against fanfiction's rules to update my story with just an author's note, and so I wasn't sure how to let you all know what was going on with me and why I couldn't update with a real chapter. Also, I remember last month when fanfiction's alert system wasn't working, and, again, it would have been good to have another method of letting everyone know when the story was updated. So, I've added the link to my profile, and feel free to follow my page if you think you might find it useful to hear occasional updates from me, as well as see any fan-videos or fan-art I really like.**

 **A thousand thanks, as always, for your words of encouragement. I really love this story, and I hope you enjoy this chapter. All best!**

 **-Rebecca**

 **P.S. Do let me know if you notice any major errors – I'm still not quite back to 100% since the surgery, so there may be a few more than usual.**

* * *

Bella took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "C'mon Bella," she told herself. "No sense in putting this off." Yet, there she remained, on the doorstep of her father's apartment building, as though her feet were bolted to the pavement.

It was almost ten in the morning, and Bella had been married for about six hours. Therein lay the problem.

As soon as the vows were said Bella had insisted on being taken back to New York City. There had been hotel rooms booked, but after the marriage was made official, all she could think about was getting back to her hometown and talking to Angela and her father.

She'd only slept a little on the plane. Her mind had been whirring like an overheating computer. Literally overnight, her life had changed forever. Whether for the better or the worse, it was too soon to say, but the truth was that, as she stood there, suddenly feeling too nervous to speak to her own father, Bella already felt like a completely different person.

Edward had wanted to come in with her, but Bella had made him promise to stay in the car, at least until she called him. Charlie Swan was a complicated man, made skittish by a career in law enforcement and the terrible tragedy of his wife's early death. He found most strangers off-putting, and Edward was unlikely to be an exception.

Bella shifted uneasily on the stoop, then turned and looked back over her shoulder at the limousine parked conspicuously on the curb. The windows were tinted so that she couldn't see inside, but she was positive that Edward was watching her. "Most likely wondering what the hell is wrong with me," Bella muttered to herself, and the thought provided the incentive she needed to finally press the damn button on the intercom system. There was an artificial ringing sound, and then a click as it connected. "Yes?" Came her father's guarded greeting.

Bella swallowed. "It's me papa, let me up?"

"Bella!" her father's tone warmed immediately. "Come up and have some breakfast!" There was another click as he buzzed her in. Bella took one last glance over her shoulder in the direction of the limo, then let herself into the apartment building.

Her father lived on the seventh floor of the building, in the same apartment he and his wife had rented in '82 when they first got married. Visiting him always brought out mixed feelings in Bella. On one hand this was the only real home she'd ever known, and it would have a piece of her heart for as long as she lived. On the other hand, the apartment was like a shrine to her mother. Rene Swan had been gone for seventeen long years, but Charlie had hardly changed a thing in all that time. Sometimes it felt as though Bella's mother had simply stepped out for groceries, and was expected back any time. It was hard. Hard to move on, hard to quell the bitter, soul-wracking sadness that came upon her sometimes when she saw the way that her father still kept Rene's hairbrush on his dresser, as though his wife might need to use it again someday.

But Bella tried to push all that aside on the elevator ride up to her father's apartment, and by the time she was ringing his doorbell she thought that she had done at least a passable job of plastering a smile on her face.

There was a pause before her father opened the door, and Bella knew that he was using the peephole to make sure that it was definitely her before he unlocked the door. Then there was a click as he undid the bolt, and suddenly the door opened.

"Hey pops." Bella shifted uneasily, as there was a moment of awkward hesitation.

Then her father enfolded her in a hug, and Bella, pulled into the embrace before she knew what was happening, felt strangely like a traitor. How was she supposed to tell this man that she had gotten married without him there? How was she supposed to explain this to him in a way that wouldn't hurt him, when she couldn't tell him the truth about the circumstances under which she'd gotten married?

"Are you alright?" her father stepped back and surveyed her. "Angela must have called here six times last night asking if I knew where you were."

"Oh yeah, sorry about that," Bella said, as her guilt intensified. "She called you back once she got in touch with me, right?"

"Yes, she did. She said there had been some kind of miscommunication."

"…Yeah." Bella said finally.

Her father waited for an explanation, but when none seemed forthcoming, he waved her inside. "Come have breakfast." He said again.

Walking into the kitchen was like stepping into a time warp. The walls were covered in photos of Bella and her mother. From infancy until age eight, Bella had been photographed within an inch of her life. There were holiday photos of Bella, family photos of Bella, professional portraits of Bella, candid shots of Bella. There were enough photos of her in a bubble-bath pretending to be a mermaid for them to paper the actual bathroom with.

All that stopped in December of '99. It had always seemed somehow grimly appropriate to Bella that her mother's death had coincided with the turn of the millennium. The loss of her mother had impacted Bella's life like an asteroid crashing to Earth; it had been a personal apocalypse beyond which there could be no return to normalcy, no sense of safety or security, no illusion of innocence. There was life before December 12th, 1999, and life after. The two existences had nothing in common, and the photos had stopped.

"Eggs?" her father's question interrupted Bella's reverie. Her father was wearing his favorite bathrobe and had his reading glasses perched on the edge of his nose. There was a gurgle from the cherry-red coffee maker in the corner as he brewed what was likely his second pot of the day, and bacon sizzled on the stove. He was offering her a pan full of scrambled eggs. Her father had a way of making breakfast stretch to take up half the day. He didn't work any more, though he did volunteer three times a week.

"No thanks." Bella said, gnawing on her lower lip anxiously. It was about time for her to broach the subject, but she wasn't sure how to go about it. Thankfully Charlie didn't have a weak heart, otherwise she would have been worried about the news killing him.

The shrill of the telephone interrupted her thoughts. Charlie glanced at the caller id. "It's your aunt."

His sister started chattering away the minute he answered the phone. Bella couldn't make out any distinct words from where she sat at the table, but she could hear the maniacal excitement in her aunt's voice.

"Slow down Marie," Her father rolled his eyes. His sister Maria was one of Bella's most high-strung family members. The woman had few hobbies, but a compulsion for staying abreast of local gossip. She had her finger on the pulse of the Lower East Side, and sometimes it seemed like there wasn't a single affair carried out, a single divorce filed, a single love child born, without Maria Swan knowing about it.

"Marie, I can't understand you when you talk that quickly. Now, _what_ about Bella?"

Uh-oh. The jig was up. Bella had no idea how her Aunt Maria had heard about the elopement, but she shuddered to think what kind of rumors were currently circulating. Her father shifted his stance, turning so that he could face Bella while he listened to his sister's excited babbling. Bella stared sheepishly back at him, watching as the furrow over his brow deepened. "She _what_? You read that _where_? National Enquirer? Well that hardly sounds reliable. No, I don't know why they'd be writing about Bella in the first place. Well, it is puzzling, Marie, I'll give you that. A what? A millionaire? No, a _billionaire_? Ah. Where did she meet him? How should I know? No, I'm pretty sure she wasn't in Nevada last night, Marie. Well, she's standing in the kitchen right now. Yes. Right in front of me. Yes. Well, I haven't had a chance to ask her. Well, I will. As soon as I get off the phone. We were about to have breakfast. It's the most important meal of the day, you know." Charlie smiled at his daughter, and Bella realized then that her father didn't believe a word of what his sister was telling him. "Alright, I'll ask her. Yes. Take care Marie."

Charlie hung up the phone and turned back to Bella, leaning back against the kitchen cabinet with his arms crossed in front of him as he assessed his only daughter curiously.

"Your aunt claims you eloped with a billionaire in Las Vegas last night… Also she wants to know if you'll pay off your cousin Valerie's mortgage…" Charlie Swan frowned. "Bella, is there something you want to tell me?"

* * *

Five minutes later, Bella walked briskly out of her father's apartment building towards the limo parked at the curb. She stepped up to the window and knocked on the glass until the door slid open and Edward stepped out to tower over her. He certainly handled sleep-deprivation much better than she did. If Bella hadn't know that he'd never gone to sleep last night, she never would have guessed. His black outfit was barely wrinkled, his piercing green eyes were as sharp as ever, and the five o'clock shadow only made him look a little more rugged than usual.

This powerful, intimidating man was her _husband_.

A curtain twitched in a window across the street, and Bella knew that old Lucia was likely at her usual post, scanning the entire neighborhood with the eyes of an eagle, watching for anything out of the ordinary. Great. Between Maria, the family gossip, and Lucia, the neighborhood gossip, the phone lines in Lower Manhattan were probably on fire today.

Edward, probably stiff from hours spent in the jet and in the car, rolled his shoulders, and cracked his knuckles. He seemed exactly as out of place in this neighborhood as Bella would have expected him to be. He was at once too sophisticated and too dangerous for her old-fashioned, lower-middle class but rapidly gentrifying neighborhood. He didn't fit in with the hipsters or the old-timers.

As if to prove his otherness, one of Edward's hands reached low, toward his waistband. It was a smooth, almost unconscious gesture, one hand just barely brushing over the back of his pants, but Bella knew what that he was checking the gun he wore in the back of his waistband. She would have missed it before, but in the jet on the way back Bella had watched him reload all three of his weapons before returning them to their various hidden holsters on his person. His gaze swept the street watchfully, and Bella wondered who he was looking for.

He reached for her, one hand settling lightly but almost possessively on the small of her back as they walked up the steps of her father's apartment building. "He found out from my Aunt Maria," Bella told Edward. "Don't ask me how she found out, but she was babbling something about the National Enquirer."

"Unfortunately we're a little more high profile than we'd like to be," Edward said gruffly. "Our people tried their best to keep it out of the papers, but between law enforcement, Rosalie's paparazzi and various business… associates, we're followed constantly."

"Oh." Bella took a minute to digest that. So it really was in the National Enquirer. Good grief, then Angie had to have seen something about it… Well, that was the next fire she had to put out. For now she had to focus on her father.

"The thing about my dad," she told Edward as they stepped into the elevator, "is that he's sort of. . . Complicated."

"Aren't we all?" Edward said, readjusting his shirt so that his underarm holster wasn't obvious.

"Erm. Well. Some more than others, I suppose." Bella conceded. "Anyway, my dad is… he's had a really hard time since my mom died."

That got Edward's attention. "I didn't realize your mom had died."

"Yes… well… anyway," Bella never knew how to have this conversation. "He's just… he doesn't really work anymore, but he used to be a police officer, and he's very protective of me, and… I don't know. He's been to some dark places, my dad, and I just don't want this to set him back at all."

Edward's dark gaze swept over her in an instant. "I understand," he said, heavily, as though he could feel the same weight on his shoulders. "My parents are both gone now, but I remember what it was like to try to protect them."

Come to think of it, Bella knew next to nothing about Edward's parents.

Come to think of it, Bella knew next to nothing about _Edward_.

Pushing that less than comforting thought aside for a moment, Bella let Edward into her father's apartment. Her father was waiting for them, and Bella's eyes widened a little in surprise. Her father was dressed. It was the first time in years that she had seen him dressed before noon. Even more surprisingly, he was wearing his most presentable outfit, and he had combed his hair. Bella would have thought that her father was trying to make a good impression on Edward, if she hadn't known better. More than likely, her father was hoping to intimidate Edward. She didn't anticipate that he'd have much success, but it was nice to know that he still had the energy to make an effort.

"Hello sir, it's nice to meet you," Edward said smoothly, stepping forward confidently and extending his hand. "I'm Edward." After a lifetime of coercing everyone he didn't charm, and charming everyone he didn't coerce, Edward clearly expected little resistance from Charlie Swan.

That was a mistake on his part.

Bella's father eyed the proffered hand as though it reeked of sewage. "Do you have a last name, _Edward_?"

"My name is Edward Cullen."

Her father had been a high ranking member of NYPD, once, but he had been isolated from all of that for so long, that Bella had half-expected him to miss the significance of Edward's last name entirely. But when her father's entire posture went rigid, she realized that she wasn't going to be so lucky.

Charlie's eyes narrowed to a fraction of their usual size, and he looked from Edward to Bella as though trying to work out a particularly difficult puzzle. "Any relation to Carlisle Cullen?" He asked finally, tensely.

"He's my uncle." Edward answered. His voice was easy but his shoulders were rigid.

"Ah." Charlie answered. It was a damning sound, as though his worst suspicions had been confirmed. His gaze returned to Bella. "What about Mike?" He asked.

Bella shifted uneasily. "Dad, I thought you hated Mike?"

"I did," Charlie said. "But I thought you two were planning to get married."

"Plans change," Edward said simply.

There was a certain sharpness in Charlie's eyes when he looked back at his new and unwanted son-in-law. " _Clearly_."

Bella cleared her throat uncomfortably. She wasn't sure how many times Edward could be insulted before his temper got the better of him. "Well, Edward and I have to run, but maybe we could all have dinner together later this week. That sounds nice, right?"

" 'Nice' isn't exactly the word I'd use, no," her father answered, at the same time Edward nodded.

"Right, well, I'll call you tonight, dad, and we'll schedule it." Bella's new goal for the encounter was just to get Edward out of there before there was more conflict. "I just wanted you two to have the chance to meet each other. And now you have, so… Bye pops. I'll see you soon."

Charlie didn't protest as Bella reached out for a farewell hug, but he did whisper into her hair, "Bella. . . I'm going to find out what's really going on here."

Bella didn't answer, she just leaned back from her father's embrace and looked him squarely in the eyes. "I love you," she told him firmly, "but you need to leave this alone."

"Not a chance."

* * *

"Well, that went well," Edward said calmly as they took the elevator down to the ground floor.

"Not really," Bella sighed.

"He seemed fine," Edward shrugged.

"I couldn't tell what he was thinking." Bella shook her head. "That's not normal." Edward didn't seem convinced, but Bella knew in her heart of hearts that her father had not taken the news well at all. Taking the news well would have entailed some yelling, a little hand-waving, maybe even a bit of guilt-tripping, before eventually reaching some kind of acceptance. Charlie retreating into an icy, seemingly impassive silence did not mean that he had taken the news well, it meant that he had taken it very, very badly indeed.

The question remained: was he upset because his feelings were hurt, or because his suspicion had been aroused? Bella fervently hoped that her father wasn't going to try to do any research into Edward's background, because that was likely to end badly for everyone involved. "Well, at least it's over with," Bella sighed, as they stepped out of the apartment building and into the street. She hesitated there, just beside the limo, to inhale deeply and breathe in the smells of her childhood.

Sometimes, on a hot summer evening when the wind blew just right, melding the stench of the trash with the scent of the deli across the street, Bella could almost taste old New York. The Lower East Side of the 1970s. Her parents' city. The gentrification of the past decade had been swift and almost complete, but the shadow of the old neighborhood was still there. You could see it in the old men who congregated in her father's apartment once a week for poker night, the aged sons of first generation immigrants who had come to New York in the '20s, '30s and '40s. You could see it in old Lucia across the street, who watched the neighborhood like a hawk from her kitchen window, eyes peeled for any indiscretions. Some of the old people were still here, and they remembered the old days. Bella was grateful that someone did: this neighborhood and its memories was one of her strongest links to her mother.

"You've lived here your whole life?" Edward asked. He was staring around them, drinking in their surroundings intently, and Bella wondered what he was thinking.

"For my whole life. And my father has lived here for most of his." She hesitated, then smiled and pointed to a large brick structure on the other side of the street. "See that building? There was a big renovation back in '07, but before then it used to have big old fire escapes facing this side of the street. My mom lived in that building when she was a little girl. Until she was about sixteen. That's where she was living when she first met my dad. He lived a few blocks away back then, but he used to come here and climb up the fire escape to see her." Bella smiled. Next to her, Edward was silent, and Bella suddenly felt ridiculous. He was probably counting the seconds until he could climb back in his limo and get out of this neighborhood, and here she was giving him a family history lesson.

Bella turned to him, awkwardly tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear, about to ask if he was ready to go, but much to her surprise, he was staring at the building she had pointed out. He cocked his head and his eyes narrowed in concentration. In the morning light his irises looked more gray-green than their usual vivid emerald. "Do you know which apartment she lived in?"

The smile returned to Bella's face as easily as it had slipped away. "Um." She turned back to the building and squinted, counting windows. "Sixth floor, fifth window from the right."

"There?" Edward pointed.

"Mmm. No, there. Next window down." Bella pointed as well, and for a moment their hands touched. It was just the barest brush of warm skin against warm skin, but it brought a flush racing to her cheek anyway. "Her mom, my grandma, had job in a big department store halfway across Manhattan. She got my mom a job there too, when my mom was just fifteen. They used to get off work at the same time, but my mom would run all of the way to the subway so that she could catch an earlier train, that way she'd have half an hour at home alone to see my dad before her mother got home."

Edward grinned. "Your grandma didn't like your dad?"

Bella laughed. "She thought he was bad news. He was three years older than my mom and he'd been arrested."

Now Edward laughed out loud. "Your dad was the neighborhood bad boy? Hard to tell now."

"Isn't it? But he cleaned things up after he turned eighteen and then he became a police officer. Still, it took my grandma ages to come around. She used to call him 'that man' for the longest time. She was still doing it when I was really little. I have a few memories from when I was tiny of she and my mom talking about him. She'd call him 'that man' and my mom would pretend that she didn't know who she was talking about. So my grandma would say 'that man' and my mom would say 'what man?' and they'd go around in circles forever until my mom couldn't stop laughing and finally my grandma gave up and started calling him Charles."

"She sounds great." Edward said. He met her gaze, and she was surprised by how gentle his expression was. It was hard to reconcile with features that were as harsh as they were handsome, and once again, Bella did not know what to make of Edward, how to proceed with him, when he was by turns terrifying and almost tender.

"She was," Bella said finally. Her smile was growing fuller and fuller, and she realized, with a start, that if she didn't find something else to talk about, she was going to cry. It was always that way with her mother. A little bit of remembering brought joy. Too much remembering and Bella would start crying, and once she started sometimes it felt like she would never stop.

"We should go," she said abruptly, and turned away. Just like that, the moment was gone, but the pressure in her chest had also eased, and she could breathe freely again.

"Yes, I'm waiting for a report from Miami," she heard Edward mutter. "Who are we going to see next?"

"Angela," Bella said, and just before she climbed back into the limo, she saw her father's silhouette at his seventh floor window. He was staring down at them, his posture giving nothing away, but Bella felt a chill come over her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Hi everyone! Many thanks for your kind words about my surgery and recovery; your well-wishes mean more than you know. My condition is continuing to improve a little each day, and I'm happy to be back on fanfiction. In the next chapter or so we'll be getting into the full swing of the story as I've been envisioning it since the beginning. I can't wait!**

 **All Best,**

 **Rebecca**

* * *

Bella had intended to meet Angela back at the Ashley Eden, but Edward had booked a suite at one of the Eden's biggest competitors, the Blue Promenade Hotel seven blocks away. Bella felt oddly like a traitor to her employer as she was ushered over the threshold towards the elevator. She had briefly considered applying to the Promenade once or twice, but Angela lived closer to the Ashley Eden, and Bella hadn't wanted to switch jobs and leave her friend behind.

Now, she found herself craning her neck, scoping out the competition. "I like their maid outfits better than ours," she remarked to Eric as they walked down the hall. Edward and Emmett were striding ahead of them, deeply engrossed in conversation. "But those bellboys downstairs looked ridiculous. And did you see the concierge?"

Eric blinked back at her bemusedly. "You do realize that you're not a maid anymore, right Bella?"

"Once a maid, always a maid," Bella said, without thinking. Then she stopped short, horrified by her own statement. "God, I hope not…" she muttered.

Eric snorted. He was watching her the way one might study a particularly bizarre animal at the zoo, like he wasn't sure whether to be impressed, fascinated or horrified. "You are something, Isabella Swan," he told her.

"Technically, I haven't resigned from the Ashley Eden yet." Bella remarked.

"Well, I doubt your employers are expecting you to show up for your next shift. Not if they've been on the internet this morning."

"Still, I need to contact them and officially resign." Bella felt oddly shaken at the prospect. It would be the first of many big changes, and as much as Bella had been looking forward to eventually outgrowing her job at the Ashley Eden, she was a little stunned by the suddenness of it all.

"Bella?" The familiar voice made her spin around immediately.

"Angela!" Her friend was standing at the other end of the hall, in her Ashley Eden uniform, one hand anxiously twisting in her skirt. Angela was one of the most boisterously confident people Bella had ever known, but now she looked oddly hesitant.

But there was no hesitation on Bella's part. She hurried back down the hall to embrace her friend, and, thankfully, Angela's arms were open when she got there. It was a tremendous relief just to rest her head on her friend's shoulder.

"What in the world is going on?" Angela asked, once they had parted. "First you didn't show up last night, then I couldn't get in touch with you for half the night, then you called and told me that you were fine but that you couldn't explain what was going on, then you asked me to meet you here, and then just a few minutes ago I went online and-" Angela finally had to pause to take a breath, and Bella gestured for her friend to follow her back towards the suite.

Edward and Emmett were already there, but they had paused on the threshold to watch Bella's reunion with Angela. Eric was still waiting in the hall, and he cast an assessing glance at Angela.

Bella followed his gaze to her friend, taking note of the shadows under Angela's pretty brown eyes and the many wrinkles in her uniform, souvenirs from what had most likely been a sleepless night.

It was a mark of just how uncertain Angie was that she didn't giggle at all when she was introduced to Edward. She just met his gaze levelly and solemnly shook his hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Angela," Edward said smoothly. Watching him now, most people never would have guessed that he was part of a notorious crime family. He was suave, sophisticated, like someone who had been born into a family of easy privilege rather than one that had clawed its way to the top of the criminal food chain.

But Bella could see it. They hadn't spent much more than half a day together, but she was already starting to notice his tells. The way his gaze warily swept the hall over Angie's head just after they were introduced, as though checking to make sure that no one had followed her up to their floor. The way he shifted his weight ever so slightly from one foot to the other, the only clue that he was tensed and ready for action at a moment's notice. Not to mention the calculating gleam that lit his catlike eyes as he assessed and then discounted Angie as a potential threat.

Until yesterday he had been little more than a handsome stranger, but in the course of just a day, she was getting familiar with his particular flavor of leashed intensity.

Bella wondered if Edward ever really relaxed.

"Likewise," Angie squeaked out, in response to Edward's pleasant greeting. She turned immediately to Bella, her eyes wider than ever. "Can we talk?" She whispered.

Edward jerked his head in the direction of the suite door. "Let's take this inside, shall we?"

The suite where they'd be staying was as luxurious as any Bella had ever seen at the Ashley Eden, but she was too focused on what she was going to say to Angela to take in the details. Edward walked ahead of them across the sitting room and opened the bedroom door smoothly. "We'll give you two some time to talk things over."

On the other side of the room, Eric was already setting up his laptop while Emmett walked to the window and pushed the curtain aside, surveying the street below the suite. The Cullen brothers were definitely expecting some kind of trouble.

Bella pushed that thought of her mind as she and Angela walked into the bedroom. As soon as Edward had closed the door behind them, Angela rounded on Bella, her eyes wide and earnest.

"I just don't understand, Bella. The papers are speculating that you two had been carrying out a secret relationship for months, but there's no way… I mean… There's just no way. You weren't, right?"

"Angie, you know I wasn't," Bella said. "I mean, first of all, you would have known if I was sneaking around with freaking _Edward Cullen_ , and second of all, I would have _told_ you."

Angela nodded, seeming to calm a little. "I thought you would have. But then this makes even less sense. I mean, last night I was trying to convince you to _flirt_ with Edward, and early this morning you _married_ him? I mean, kudos to you, but seriously, what is going on?"

That was a really good question. Once again, Bella wasn't sure exactly how to start. "The thing is, I can't tell you everything," she said, and Angela's shoulders slumped.

"Bella… I don't get it. I mean, I'm happy if you're happy, but, are you happy? And I feel like I'm missing a big part of your life, and I'm not used to feeling like that. We've been friends since fourth grade, Bells, and you've never thrown me for a loop till now."

"Angie?" Bella peered into her best friend's eyes, comforted by the familiarity and warmth she found there. "Do you trust me?"

Angela bit her lip. "Well, I thought…" she sputtered, but then her face softened. "Of course," she said, finally. "I love you Bells. It's not that I don't trust you. I'm just _worried_ about you."

"I know what I'm doing," Bella said, and for the first time she half-believed herself. "Now, I can't give you details. Not now, but, I sort of got… mixed up in some stuff, and this marriage seemed to be the best solution."

Angela did not look reassured. "I gotta tell you, Bells, that is neither illuminating nor comforting."

"Okay, well, it's the best I can give you for now." Bella gripped her friend's hand when Angela shook her head. "Come on. Angie, I don't want to lie to you. I'll lie to my dad if I have to, I've done it before, but I've never lied to you before, and I don't want to start now. But I can't tell you everything, either, not right now.

"But you're _okay_?" Angela whispered, "I mean, you're not in danger, right? 'Cause if you need to get away for a while, I can totally _Thelma and Louise_ it down to the border with you. Or _up_ to the border… I guess technically we're closer to Canada than Mexico…" Angela shook her head. "But anyway, the point is…"

"I don't need to leave the country," Bella smiled. "Anyway, that movie doesn't end so great. So no _Thelma and Louise_ for now, okay? Let's just try to stay cool and I'm going to figure out what my next move is."

"Okay, staying cool," Angela nodded. "Not my strong suit, mind you, but I'll give it a try for your sake."

Bella couldn't stifle a sigh of quiet relief. Her father was going to be a problem, but at least Angela was on board. Bella was fairly certain she could take on the whole world if she had Angela on her team. Even now, her heart felt a little bit lighter.

"So… what's it like?" Angela asked, peering at Bella in fascination. "I mean, seriously, what has it been like?"

"It's hard to say, really, I mean, it hasn't even been twenty four hours. It's all just so… crazy. I don't even know." Bella shook her head.

"But what about Edward?" Angela insisted, "what is _he_ like?"

Bella frowned, trying to put into words the tumult of conflicting emotions that the mere mention of Edward's name triggered.

"He's like… he's like… Very hard to tell what he's thinking," Bella said inarticulately. "Very cool… But also very hot… Sometimes very nice… But also very intimidating… There are a lot of guns… He has really beautiful eyes… Usually they look green… But when he's angry, they're kind of more dark… But this morning they were more gray… The thing is…" Bella cocked her head, "…his _eyelashes_ are actually really beautiful…"

She stopped, abruptly. Angela was staring at her like she was speaking in tongues.

"Well _that_ was educational," Angela said frankly. "You are out-of-your-mind attracted to him, aren't you?"

"I'm… not." It was possibly the most pathetically unconvincing denial Bella had ever uttered. "I'm completely indifferent."

"Oh, I believe you," Angela said, with fake earnestness. "Nothing screams _indifference_ like rambling about a guy's eyelashes for five minutes. Good thing you didn't get started on his ass, or we might have been here all day."

"Angela! Keep your voice down!" Bella hissed.

"What?" Angie shrugged. "C'mon, Bella, he's like your _husband_ now. You're allowed to be attracted to him."

"It's not like that though," Bella whispered. "It's more of a. . . Mutually beneficial arrangement than a marriage. I have no idea how he feels about me, or if he was seeing anyone else when this whole thing happened. I don't really know where we stand."

"Well, there's only one way to find out. Ask him." Angela said bluntly.

"Oh please," Bella snorted. "Have you forgotten who you're talking to? If Mike hadn't made the first move back in high school, I'd probably still be a virgin."

"Ooh, speaking of Mike," Angela reached into her purse. "I brought your cell phone and other stuff from the Ashley Eden. Good thing I know your locker combination."

"Oh good." There was something grounding about having her cell phone and other essentials back in her possession.

"Fair warning," Angela said as she pressed Bella's phone into her palm, "the damn thing has been ringing off the hook this morning. Mike alone must have called like twenty times."

"Oh wow," Bella sighed.

"What?"

Bella shook her head. "Nothing, it's just . . . This is the first time I've thought about Mike since yesterday. He just sort of slipped my mind."

"Well," Angela laughed and clapped her on the shoulder. "He's definitely been thinking about you. Your voicemail is full and you've got like thirty text messages from him. The funny thing is, if you read them in order you can actually see him going through the four stages of grief."

"I think there are five stages of grief." Bella said absently, digging through her purse in search of her sketchbook.

"Yes, but the fifth one is acceptance, and take it from me, Mike ain't there yet."

"How do you know what his text messages say, anyway?"

Angela smiled sweetly. "I know your phone passcode too."

"Hey! That's only for emergencies," Bella reminded her, but without any real irritation.

"Um, hello? You married Edward Cullen, overnight, in Las Vegas, and I didn't know what was going on or why you had no-showed on me. That was one hundred percent an emergency."

"Fair enough."

Outside the bedroom door, Bella heard the muffled tone of Edward and Emmett's conversation shift slightly in pitch. It sounded like one of them was getting angry about something. Maybe Emmett.

Angela had caught the change in tone as well, and she cocked her head attentively. "What are they talking about, anyway?"

"Oh, who knows." Bella muttered, finally giving up and upending her purse, scattering its contents all over the floor of the suite. "Probably whoever they whacked in Miami."

"What?"

"…Nothing. Have you seen my sketchbook?"

"No, now that you mention it. It wasn't with the rest of your stuff. Are you sure that you put it back in your locker?"

"I thought so." Bella shook her head. "But it's not here."

"Maybe Lauren picked it up." Angela scowled. "I could see her doing that."

"Oh great." Bella cringed at the thought of Lauren pawing through her most personal possession. "The last thing I need is anymore trouble."

"I don't know, I kinda wish I had some of your kind of trouble," Angela shook her head, "it's like overnight your life is full of incredibly hot suitors."

"Overnight, yes," Bella agreed, "although I don't really have any suitors. I have one…. _Sortofhusband_ ," Bella said, all in a rush. It was the first time she had referred to Edward, out loud, as her husband, and suddenly her face was flushed like she had a fever.

"Well, and then there's that Jacob. He's sure interested in everything about you."

Bella frowned. "Who's Jacob?"

Angela rolled her eyes. " 'Who's Jacob?' she asks, like men that handsome grow on trees. C'mon, Bella, think… tall, dark, handsome. Dreamy eyes? Super intense. Not Edward Cullen hot, but almost."

"I don't know anyone named Jacob," Bella gnawed on her lower lip. "What did he want?"

"What he wanted, was to know everything about you."

"What, like where I lived?"

Angela shook her head. "No, way weirder stuff than that. Like when your relationship with Mike had ended and whether I'd known that you and Edward were dating. I kind of got the impression that maybe he'd been waiting for you to become available and was kind of bummed that he'd missed his chance."

Bella's frown deepened. "Well, that can't be, because I don't know anyone named Jacob. You didn't tell him anything about me, did you?"

"Oh, heck no. I called him a creeper and told him to get lost. I watch _Criminal Minds_. I know a stalker when I see one."

"Good thinking," Bella nodded approvingly.

"He was crazy hot, though, not gonna lie." Angela added. "It's a shame that he's a deranged maniac who probably has a wall full of secret photos of you back at his creepy little psycho apartment. Ohh!" Angela gasped. "I know what he is! I know what he is!"

"What is he?"

"He's your first _celebrity stalker_." Angela nodded knowingly. "He probably saw your photo in the National Enquirer and decided that you're deeply in love with him, despite the fact that the two of you have never met."

Bella raised an eyebrow skeptically. "I think it's a bit soon for a celebrity stalker," she said, "anyway, I'm not a celebrity, just sister-in-law to one. And Edward showed me that photo in the Enquirer - all you can see is my leg."

"Sometimes that's all it takes," Angela said authoritatively. "These men are very easily unhinged. Trust me, I watch-

" _Criminal Minds_ , I know, I know." Bella grinned. "I forget that you're an expert."

"So don't panic," Angela said, "but he's _probably_ going to try to kill Edward, since he sees him as a rival for your affections."

Bella snorted. "If he tries anything of the sort he'll end up like swiss cheese; Edward has more guns than half the NRA. Anyway, believe me, Angie, whoever this Jacob guy is, he's the least of my problems."

There was a knock at the door.

"Yes?" Bella called.

The doorknob turned and Edward stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his powerful chest. There was a simmering anger at the back of his eyes, but it seemed to cool when he caught sight of Bella. "We have a lunch reservation for 12:30 at the Carlton. Alice and Rosalie will be there, and I'd like to introduce you to my uncle and his wife. The car's waiting downstairs whenever you're ready."

He started to withdraw, then paused and glanced at Angie. "Also, we've called a car for you, Angela, to take you home whenever you're ready."

Angela blinked rapidly. "Um . . . Thanks. Thank you."

Edward nodded and left them to it.

"The car's waiting downstairs," Angela mimicked once the door closed, her eyes shining with excitement. "How many cars do they have, anyway?"

"I don't want to think about it," Bella said weakly. "It makes me dizzy."

"What's Rosalie like?" Angela asked eagerly.

Bella winced.

"Ah." Angela sighed. "That's unfortunate."

"Tell me about it. I used to think that the gossip sites were treating her unfairly when they called her a mean-spirited diva. Turns out they were being generous."

"You can handle her," Angela said confidently.

"Oh, well I'm glad one of us is sure." Bella rolled her eyes. "I used to think Lauren was the heavyweight champion of mean girl fight club. Turns out she's barely a contender." She shoved her belongings back in her purse and stood up to open the door.

Edward was speaking quietly but intently to Eric and Emmett when Bella and Angela stepped out of the bedroom, but the conversation ended as soon as the men noticed their presence.

"Everything okay?" Edward asked, but his eyes met hers probingly, and she knew what he was really asking: had she managed to deal with Angela without telling her anything that could put the family in jeopardy?

Bella just smiled.

"It was very nice to meet you," Angela said politely. "I'm going to head out now."

"Well it was nice to meet you. We should all have dinner sometime soon." Edward suggested.

"That would be great," Angela said eagerly, and Bella nodded.

"Great. I'm going to make a call," Edward told Bella, touching her arm lightly. It was a confident, easy touch, not awkward even though they didn't actually know each other that well, and strangely intimate in its naturalness.

Angela followed the gesture intently, and when Edward walked away she mouthed "oh my _god_!" to Bella.

Bella looked away quickly, but she could feel a smile turning up the corners of her mouth.

"Bye Bella," Angie pulled her into a tight hug. "Call me tonight, yeah?"

"Definitely," Bella said, hugging her friend back.

Eric walked Angela down to the car that was waiting for her, while Edward finished his call. There was no answer, so he left a terse voicemail and then hung up.

There was a certain dark humor dancing in his eyes when he turned back to Bella. He took a moment to look her up and down and then grinned. "Ready to meet the rest of the family?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Hello everyone! I hope you're well and looking forward to the weekend. This chapter is a bit late since my recovery hit something of a snag last week, but I had a good time writing it and I hope you enjoy it. The next chapter will be Edward and Bella's first real night together ;) Anyway, one quick note – if you have a specific question about the story that you'd like to ask, it's best if you sign-in when you leave your review, that way I can message you back privately. All best, and happy Friday!**

 **-Rebecca**

* * *

Sandwiched between an enormous international banking building and a high end boutique, _Ingénue_ was the new lunch hotspot for Manhattan's wealthiest. Film and music stars lunched there with their bevy of stylists, agents, and personal assistants. Wall Street bankers compared overpriced watches over elaborate caviar appetizers and real estate moguls negotiated business deals while their $120 entrées grew cold.

And, apparently, absurdly wealthy international mobsters brought their brides there to meet the family.

Bella swallowed, wishing that she could ignore the knot of trepidation growing in her stomach. She felt incredibly underdressed. The maid's outfit was long gone, thank goodness. Edward had sent one of his assistants to pick out a casual outfit for Bella, so now Bella wore a pair of stylish black dress pants, a blue cashmere sweater and a pair of black flats.

It was a step up from what she would usually be wearing on her day off, but many of the women at _Ingénue_ were decked out to the nines. Bella didn't care much about clothes, she never had, but glancing around the decadent interior of the restaurant was enough to make her tug on the hem of her sweater anxiously.

Oh God, she hoped there wasn't a dress code. Getting refused entrance to the restaurant where she was supposed to meet Edward's uncle and aunt would be unutterably humiliating.

The maître d' spared a glance at her less than stellar wardrobe, and she thought she might have seen a hint of disapproval behind his sleekly polished persona. There was a pause, during which the maître d' glanced at Edward, who stared steadily back at him as though daring him to say something. The maître d' swallowed, seemed to recognize who he was dealing with, and with a courteous flourish moved to seat them right away.

As they walked, people were watching them. It took Bella a minute to realize it, since these people were nothing if not subtle, but a number of the guests were observing her, and her new husband, with great interest.

Edward strode at her side, one hand on the small of her back, cutting an intimidating figure as they crossed the restaurant. She wondered how many of the diners knew about Edward's family and what he did for a living. Judging from the slightly intimidated expressions on many faces, quite a few of them were aware of his reputation.

Emmett was strolling behind Edward and Bella, and the rest of the Cullens were seated at a large table in a corner that afforded a little more privacy than the tables in the middle of the restaurant floor. Bella recognized Alice and Rosalie right away, but there were also two more people, a man and a woman, both about forty years old, who were unfamiliar to her. They had to be Carlisle and Esme, Edward's uncle and aunt.

Carlisle rose to greet them as they approached. "Bella, I assume?" He inquired, extending his hand.

"Bella, this is my uncle, Carlisle, and his wife, Esme," Edward made the introductions, "Carlisle, Esme, this is Isabella."

"A pleasure," Carlisle said politely as he shook Bella's hand. Carlisle was thin and even more polished than Edward. His suit fit him perfectly, his blonde hair was smoothed back from a face that was strikingly good looking, and his blue eyes were quick and clever. Esme had soft brown eyes and perfectly coiffed reddish-brown hair. She smiled at Bella kindly as they shook hands.

"It's lovely to meet you, Isabella."

"Please, everyone just calls me Bella," Bella said, as she sat down in between Edward and Alice.

"Hey Bella," Alice greeted her loudly. "Sick of my brother yet? Looking for a way out? No? Give it time. I know a good divorce attorney, and if that fails I have some friends who are assassins."

Bella didn't doubt that. In fact, Alice _looked_ like an assassin. Bella was relieved to see that the youngest Cullen sibling hadn't bothered dressing up like the others. In fact, she was wearing black jeans, combat boots and a black off-the-shoulder sweater that exposed the smooth skin of her neck and shoulder. Her eyeliner was heavy and her dark hair was mussed like a rock star's. The smile she flashed was sweet but her eyes were angry. Her chair was pushed back from the table a little and she was sitting with her hands braced on her knees; the whole posture was like a challenge, a warning.

Rosalie followed Bella's gaze and cocked a perfect eyebrow. "Apparently she's making a _statement_. We're not sure what the statement is, but we're hoping she burns the combat boots after this lunch."

"I'm surprised they let you in," Emmett remarked to his sister, before catching Rosalie's lips in a kiss.

Alice turned on him with eyes like knives, "turns out the Cullen name is good for _something_."

Alice's intensity was stressing Bella out. She'd hoped to make a good impression on Carlisle and Esme, but it was hard when the air was already thick with tension. Still, she was grateful to Alice for her suggestion on the night Bella was married.

Alice's plan had turned out to be a legal one. It was a prenuptial agreement, clarifying Bella's rights within the marriage. It specified that Edward and Bella would maintain a residence in New York, so that Bella could be close to her father, and provided a monthly income for Bella so that she would have money for various expenses. That was important to Bella; she had been helping her father with his bills since she got her first job, and now that she was temporarily between jobs she didn't want to have to run to Edward for her father's rent, or for any other expenses that might crop up. Bella had every intention of getting a new job, she just wasn't sure what it would be.

The prenup also outlined the amount - a staggering $100 million - that Bella would be awarded if there were a divorce. Curiously enough, Alice had insisted on including an infidelity clause. In the event that the marriage ended due to infidelity on Edward's part, Bella was owed a full 60% of everything he had.

It was unthinkably generous, and Bella had hardly been in a position to disagree, though she had wondered about Alice's motivations. Why, for instance, had Alice been so keen on including the infidelity clause? Edward hadn't commented on it, and Bella hadn't broached the topic either, but it was at the back of her mind. Why have an infidelity clause in a prenuptial agreement for a marriage of convenience between two near-strangers? And what stake did Alice have in any of this to begin with?

Pushing aside her questions for now, Bella turned her attention back to her lunch companions.

Rosalie had turned her critical eye from Alice's outfit to Bella's. "Speaking of crimes of fashion. . ."

"Rosalie," Edward said, in a voice that sounded deceptively calm given the angry way his jaw had suddenly tightened. "Emmett and I may need to continue working together to keep the family business running smoothly, but if you can't manage to scrape together even a semblance of respect for Bella, then there's no need for you and I to ever be under the same roof again. This family has plenty of money and plenty of houses. There's no reason why your path should ever have to cross mine or Bella's."

Rosalie seemed taken aback, though she quickly regrouped and hid her surprise. "Now, now, Edward. You know my bark is worse than my bite." Her white teeth snapped on the final word, and she smiled. It seemed about as close to an apology as Rosalie ever came.

Alice was glancing between Edward and Bella thoughtfully. Bella met her eyes and smiled, but Alice ignored the overture, a small frown curving over her face as her pensiveness grew.

They were a fascinating family. Edward, Emmett, Alice and Carlisle all had the same shrewd, hungry gleam, though none of them more than Edward. It colored their expressions and lent them an intensity and volatility that was as compelling as it was unnerving.

Rosalie had a different vibe; she oozed Hollywood glamour, all violet eyes, shampoo commercial hair and unattainable, hourglass proportions.

As for Esme, Carlisle's wife wasn't like Rosalie or the other Cullens. Dressed in an impeccably tailored light blue skirt suit with minimal makeup and tasteful, understated jewelry, she had a certain quiet poise that set her apart from the other five. She seemed well-educated and quietly confident.

"Esme is from a old New England family," Alice whispered, as the waiters arrived to pour wine and take their orders. "They practically date to the Mayflower."

Bella could believe it. What she had difficulty imagining was how the soft spoken and genteel Esme had ended up with Carlisle, the head of a nouveau riche crime family.

A stillness settled over the table once they were finished ordering. Bella had decided to try lobster for the first time in her life.

"Rose and I have booked another suite," Emmett remarked, finally breaking the silence. "That way it won't be crowded in the penthouse tonight."

Tonight. Bella froze. This was it, her first night with Edward since they were married. Well, technically her second, she supposed, since they'd gotten married in the middle of the night, but that first night had been spent on the jet, with Bella half passed-out and Edward cleaning his guns and orchestrating the Miami situation from afar.

This. . . This was their real first night. And there was a lot that hadn't been clarified about exactly what kind of relationship this was going to be.

And, right then, as a flush rose to her cheeks, Bella realized that everyone else at the table knew exactly what she was thinking about. Emmett seemed to be trying to control himself, but a grin turned up his lips anyway. Rosalie almost hid the small smile on her face by taking a sip of wine, but Bella could see her new sister-in-law's amusement.

For a moment, Edward looked a little less composed than usual. He swallowed a bite of his appetizer too soon, and his voice was slightly raspy as he choked out, "that's thoughtful of you. Thanks." He cleared his throat and his usual composure was restored. Bella didn't look in his direction.

"Well," Esme broke the awkward silence, "much as I would like to take this time to get to know Bella better, I think a strategy meeting is in order."

" _Definitely_ ," Rosalie said. "My publicist has been getting calls all morning. They want me to comment publicly on the marriage, to counter some of the ridiculous stories that have been circulating. But I can't make a statement until I know what the company line is. How are we handling the elopement?"

"We were thinking that perhaps Edward and Bella should go abroad for a few months. They could stay overseas until some of the buzz dies down." Esme suggested.

"Maybe at the house in France?" Carlisle put in.

"I'd rather not," Bella said, "I mean, France sounds lovely, but I can't leave my father right now, and Edward and I have agreed that we'll stay in New York for the time being. So I won't go overseas." She nodded authoritatively, pleased with herself for standing her ground, and from the side of her vision she saw Alice flash her the thumbs up.

"I don't think Bella should be hiding from the limelight right now," Rosalie put in, but she stopped talking as several waiters approached the table.

There was a momentary silence as the main course arrived. Bella eyed her lobster dish with some trepidation, then finally reached for a fork and dove in. Rosalie waited until the waiters had left before she spoke up again. "Best defense is a good offense," Rosalie put in pointedly. "If we hide Bella, people are going to suspect that there's something wrong with her, and they'll be even more curious."

Edward's gaze shifted to his sister-in-law. "So what do you suggest?"

"We need to flash her around a little bit. There have already been calls about interviews - exclusive or otherwise - and people want photos. Bella needs a _debut_. She needs to be _introduced_. Otherwise it will look like we have something to hide. Which of course we _do_ , but that's the point."

"So what do we do?" Emmett asked.

"Show her off until people start to get the impression that she's one more grasping gold-digger sucking up the limelight and reveling in her fifteen minutes of fame - eventually they'll get bored." Rosalie said breezily.

"Hey!" Bella looked up from her lobster, indignantly.

"It's true," Rosalie told her coolly, "this is New York City. Act like you want fame and people can't forget you fast enough. Act like you have a secret or want your privacy and in five minutes no one can get enough of you. It's almost as bad as LA."

"Well I'm not pretending to be a gold-digger," Bella said flatly. "It's demeaning. And I've never picked boyfriends based on their income - just ask the unemployed aspiring musician I dated for ten years."

"Fine, fine," Rosalie said, rolling her eyes. "We'll lay-off the gold digger angle, maybe play-up the fairytale romance story. I'll have a word with my publicist."

She reached for her clutch with a well-manicured hand.

"And there's no ulterior motive here?" Edward was surveying his sister-in-law distrustfully.

Rosalie batted her eyelashes and smiled innocently. "What ulterior motive could I possibly have?"

"I don't know," Edward said grimly. "It's hard to tell with you until it's too late. But don't make the mistake of doing anything to make Bella's life any more difficult than it already is. I mean it, Rose. You can help or you can stay away, but don't even think about making trouble. I won't be happy. This family made you, and this family can un-make you too."

Emmett cracked his knuckles. "That's enough. Leave Rose alone. She wants to help." He draped an enormous arm over the back of his wife's chair.

"And as long as she is helping, and not sabotaging, we won't have any problems," Edward said smoothly.

Emmett scowled.

"Well, this is pleasant," Alice said sardonically. "I love a side of poison daggers with my caviar."

Carlisle frowned. "Edward, Emmett, enough. Rosalie says she's trying to be helpful, Bella seems more than capable of handling her own affairs, and if you two knuckleheads start a brawl in the middle of the Ingénue lunch crowd I'll disown you both."

"I do agree with Rosalie, though," Esme said. "Bella is making a huge transition, both personally and on the public stage, and I think we should probably just - forgive the metaphor - rip the band-aid off."

"Exactly," Rosalie said with satisfaction.

"But I don't think flashing Bella in the tabloids is the right way to go about it," Esme continued. "I think we should host a party, a formal debut for Bella. We can invite some photographers, and a few members of the press. If we vet all of them thoroughly it shouldn't be too invasive. As for the location, it might make sense to have it upstate."

"Esme has a big family estate a few hours outside of the city," Alice explained to Bella. "They've had it forever. It's pretty nice . . . If secret isolated mansions are your kind of thing."

"It's not secret, Alice, otherwise we wouldn't be having a party there," Carlisle said. "It's just _private_."

"That way we can control who has access and who doesn't," Esme said.

Bella glanced at Edward, who was nodding slowly. "How do you feel about it?" He asked her.

"That sounds fine." Bella wasn't a big fan of huge parties, but she was in favor of anything that would make her introduction into Edward's world easier and more efficient.

"Excellent," Esme said. "I'll talk to my personal assistant, and tomorrow, once Bella's had a chance to settle in, we can go shopping."

"Well, now that that's settled," Rosalie said, glancing at her phone once more before slipping it into her clutch, "I have a photo-shoot to get to, and the car is here." She popped one of the dainty appetizers in her mouth and stood to leave.

"Bye Bella," she said, flashing her new sister-in-law a wink. "Enjoy having the penthouse to yourselves."

Bella flushed red as a tomato and picked at her lobster uncomfortably.

"By the way, Edward," Rosalie added, in a deliberately casual tone that was nonetheless laced with a warning, "this family didn't make me. _I_ made me, and don't you ever forget it."

Alice raised her eyebrows as Rosalie dropped her napkin on her chair and stalked away. She turned to Bella and shook her head. "The only thing that one loves more than a dramatic entrance is a dramatic exit. Born for the screen, I tell you."

Over by the door, Rosalie met up with two men who were almost as burly as Emmett.

"That's her security team," Alice explained. "She usually comes alone to family events, because, you know, there's stuff we can't have people hearing, but when she's not with us she travels with a small entourage."

"Oh," Bella said. "Wow."

"We have a large staff, of course, and lots of people at the various properties," Alice said, "but we usually try to travel with as few people as possible hovering around. It limits the opportunity for people to overhear things they shouldn't." Alice swirled the wine in her glass thoughtfully. "There's always Eric, of course, but he's in the inner circle. He doesn't know absolutely everything, but he's close enough. But if we're going through a rough patch, then we'll also travel with guards - some of Carlisle's men. Or Edward's. Just in case of attempted assassination or kidnapping."

Alice seemed pretty casual, but Bella was aghast. "So what about the situation in Miami?" She asked Alice. "Does that mean we'll have to travel with guards?"

Suddenly Alice's expression was borderline murderous again. "What do you know about the situation in Miami?" She asked Bella.

"Um, not much," Bella said, feeling suddenly guilty but unsure why. "Edward said there was a problem with Miami?"

"There is a problem with Miami," Alice said venomously. "The problem with Miami is _Edward_. If it weren't for Edward, there would be no problem with Miami." The dark-haired young woman lapsed into brooding silence.

Bella excused herself to use the bathroom. Behind her, Esme murmured something and stood up as well. They walked to the bathroom in a semi-awkward silence, which wasn't broken until they both stood together in front of the ornate mirror in _Ingénue_ 's bathroom, washing their hands.

"How are you holding up?" Esme said finally, glancing at Bella in the mirror.

"Oh," Bella gave a short laugh. "I'm alright. It's. . . It's a lot," she said finally, "but I think I'll figure it out."

"Oh you will," Esme said encouragingly. "So, how long had you and Edward been seeing each other?" Esme asked, as she re-applied lipstick in the bathroom mirror. "I don't mean to pry," she added quickly, when Bella looked down at her feet rather than answering.

"Oh, it's okay," Bella assured her, "it's just, we weren't really seeing each other. I mean, I'd seen him around the hotel, and I knew who he was, but we weren't _seeing_ each other."

"So you weren't. . . involved?" Esme looked startled, and Bella was surprised that all of the facts hadn't been made clear to Edward's aunt.

"No." Bella answered, a little wistfully.

"But, what were you doing in the penthouse at that time of the night?"

"Cleaning up a stain on the rug," Bella admitted, doing her best to avoid Esme's eagle-eyed gaze.

"That's all?" Esme snapped her compact shut and returned it to her purse. "Goodness. I hadn't realized. Edward was vague, and then when I watched the two of you together, I thought…" Esme hesitated and shook her head. "I'm not sure what I thought. Welcome to the family, though. Whatever the circumstances, I'm hoping that we can all make the best of this, and I want you to know that you can always talk to me. This is a big adjustment to make, but I know I speak for the rest of the family when I tell you that we want you and Edward to be happy."

Bella smiled, though she was fairly certain that Esme _wasn't_ speaking for the rest of the family.

Esme seemed to read her mind. "And don't worry about Rosalie. She is coming around to you, and believe it or not, she was in your shoes not so very long ago. I mean, not in precisely your situation, but she grew up in a small town outside of Tulsa and her childhood was . . . _Hard_. She made the transition from food-stamps to film star when she was still in her teens, and it wasn't easy. Give her a little time and you may find that you two have more in common than you realize."

"Oh. I see." Bella vaguely remembered reading about Rosalie's childhood in some issue of some magazine once. Rosalie's mother had died when she was young and there had been some problem with her father . . . She'd been removed from his custody and sent to live with another family member when she was still quite young. Bella hadn't given much thought to Rosalie's background until now, but it did cast the woman's smooth savagery in a different light.

Esme turned to walk away, but she hesitated and then turned around before she reached the bathroom door. "Bella," she said, gently, "at the risk of sounding like an interfering in-law, may I offer you a little advice?"

"Oh, by all means," Bella said earnestly.

"I think you might want to clarify exactly what the nature of your . . . relationship with Edward will be. Preferably sooner rather than later. Maybe _tonight_ would be an appropriate time to have that conversation?" Esme said meaningfully.

" _Maybe_ ," Bella admitted. Esme gave her a small smile and then left the bathroom.

Bella did need to talk to Edward, the sooner the better, and figure out a way to uncover how he really felt about her without humiliating herself. She stood for another moment in front of the bathroom mirror, mentally replaying her conversation with Esme.

 _Edward was vague, and then when I watched the two of you together, I thought…_

 _You might want to clarify exactly what the nature of your relationship with Edward will be…_

 _Maybe tonight?_

Yes, Bella decided, tonight.


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's Note: Hey everyone! Sorry for the delay. My medical problem reared its ugly head again, and I needed to take a break. This was an incredibly fun chapter to write, though, and I'm excited to share it! Also - j **ust as a heads up: this story is M rated, and this chapter definitely earns that rating.**_

 _Drop me a review and let me know what you think, and, as always, tell me if you notice any mistakes._

 _Have a great weekend!_

 _-Rebecca_

* * *

"So where is Edward now?" Angela asked.

Bella wrapped the cord of the hotel room phone around her finger anxiously as she spoke into the receiver. "He's just sitting in the parlor. Probably on the phone or something. He probably doesn't want to be bothered."

"If he didn't want to be bothered he wouldn't be sitting out there." Angela reasoned. "He's probably waiting for you to stop hiding and go talk to him."

"I'm not sure what to say," Bella said, lowering her voice even further as a precaution. She was sitting on the floor of the penthouse's smaller bedroom suite, with her legs stretched in front of her as she painstakingly painted her toenails scarlet red. Since she and Edward had returned to the suite after the rather awkward Cullen family lunch, Bella had been working her way down an increasingly unimportant to-do list.

She had promised herself that she was going to talk to Edward, but as her nerves got the best of her she had found herself putting it further and further off. She had successfully procrastinated until well into the evening. The sky had been darkening for several hours and now the glittering, frantic beauty of the Manhattan night skyline sprawled out far beneath the penthouse windows, and with each brush of wind the curtains fluttered and brought in the distant cacophony of the city's nightly bustle.

"Stop being such a coward." Angela groaned. "And stop overthinking everything. This is animal attraction, Bella. You'll kill it if you keep studying it. Just let go and see what happens."

"Easier said than done," Bella said, although she had no doubt that Angela wouldn't have had any reservations about putting her own advice into practice if their places had been reversed. Angela was all but fearless.

"Bella, he signed a freaking adultery clause, for god's sake. He must have something in mind. Now get off your ass and stop painting your toenails."

Bella froze with her left big-toe half done. "How do you know I'm painting my toenails? I never said."

"Please, I know your whole procrastination program." Angela scoffed. "Just like I know that before you painted your toenails you sorted your email inbox, and next you're going to clean out your purse."

"Wrong!" Bella exclaimed triumphantly. "I cleaned out my purse first. I was going to sort out my email inbox next."

"Bella! That's such a sad way to spend your first proper night as a married woman."

"You're right." Bella nodded emphatically, but she made no move to stand. Instead, she went back to her right foot and started adding a second coat of polish.

"Bella, listen to me: let your toenails dry, raid the minibar, run a bath, pour yourself a drink, take a nice long soak in the tub, then put on one of those nice hotel dressing gowns over some lingerie, and head out there to spend some quality time with your new husband. Got that? I can repeat it if you want to take notes."

Bella hesitated, her mouth slightly ajar. On one hand, the more cautious side of her was entirely intimidated by Angela's suggestion, but the other side of her, the side of Bella that had wanted Edward since the first day she saw him, felt a physical, visceral jolt. The jolt traveled lower, to the apex between her thighs, where a warm, molten hum began.

"I . . . I'll run a bath," Bella said finally, and there must have been something in her tone that told Angela that Bella meant it. Angela gave a low whoop on the other end of the phone. "Awesome! Tell me everything. Be safe! And tell me everything. And Bella, have a _good time_. Seriously, you deserve a good time after dating that worthless wastoid Mike for so long."

That was true.

Bella nodded to herself as she and Angela said their goodbyes.

"Text me later!" Angie said quickly as they hung up. "Bye!"

"Bye," Bella answered. She held the phone to her chest for a moment after the call ended, consumed with thoughts of what the evening might bring.

She ran the bath as if she were in a dream. The hotel had provided an assortment of luxury bath products, so Bella poured in some bubble-bath and then added a cherry-scented bath bomb for good measure. She decided not to have a drink - she felt intoxicated enough when she was around Edward - the last thing she needed was some alcohol to intensify the feeling.

Bella had to admit, there was something sexy about taking a bath. Back at the apartment Bella and Mike had shared, they'd had a tiny, cramped bathroom, and the tub had been an ancient thing, cracked and stained and infested with many different strains of mold. Bella hadn't even bothered attempting to take a bath there; she and Mike had limited themselves to showers and had felt much cleaner for it. But this tub was entirely different. It was an enormous, luxurious, claw-footed affair, and when it was completely full the water was up to Bella's chin.

Bella withdrew one arm from beneath the water, let the droplets run down her arm to her shoulder, and then reached behind her head and adjusted the mass of hair that she'd clipped back from her face. There was something so feminine about the feeling, something incredibly provocative.

Maybe _too_ provocative. Somehow, Bella's plan to talk to Edward seemed to have morphed into a plan to seduce him. It was entirely out-of-character for Bella, and yet, the soft but insistent throbbing between her legs was undeniable. She wanted him desperately. With a groan, Bella sank deeper into the bath.

Bella drew out the soak for as long as she could, but eventually the water cooled, and she had to get out before her skin started to prune. The total silence from the rest of the penthouse felt oddly significant. It seemed intentional, like Edward was purposefully giving her space, waiting to see how she would proceed.

Bella toweled off and then pulled the hotel's deep red robe on over her bubble-bath scented skin. She debated the benefits of going commando with herself for a few minutes, but ultimately she chickened out and pulled on a pair of black panties. Bella knotted the robe firmly around her waist and then reached up and unclipped her hair, letting the mass of soft dark waves fall loosely around her face.

It seemed weird to put on makeup - it was late at night and she'd just taken a bath - so Bella smoothed on some vanilla lip balm and left the rest of her face bare. Her heart was thundering in her chest, and the silence beyond the bedroom door was at once enticing and terrifying. Bella took a deep breath and then opened the door.

Edward was sitting in a chair by the suite's electric fireplace. His black shirt was half-unbuttoned, so that the artificial flame-light played over the tan expanse of his chest. He was staring meditatively at the fireplace, with a half-full glass of some amber liquid held loosely in his hand. The other hand was clenched, as though whatever he contemplated was setting him on edge.

She must have made some noise when she opened the door, because Edward looked up immediately. Some of the tension drained from his face when he saw who it was, but then his gaze dipped low, sweeping over her freshly bathed body and taking in the robe she wore. He swallowed, and the rigidity returned to his jaw. His eyes glinted a darker green than usual as he gestured to the chair opposite him. " _Bella_." It was impossible to decipher the tone of his voice. "I was wondering if you were going to hide in there all night."

Bella moved closer, taking the seat opposite him and crossing her legs tightly, still all too mindful of the warm pulse between her thighs.

"I wasn't hiding," she murmured.

Edward didn't answer her, but he speared her with a gaze so disarming that Bella might as well have been naked. One glance from him and she felt as if she had been stripped. She looked away, avoiding his eyes.

Edward had taken his shoes off - all he wore on his feet were dark socks, and something about that made Bella smile. She realized that she had never seen him in socks before. There was something oddly endearing, amusingly unthreatening, about seeing the big bad mobster in his socks, enjoying a quiet night in. Then Bella caught a glint of metal from behind Edward, and she realized that he had put his guns on the side table, so that they were within easy reach. Still a big bad mobster after all.

Edward followed her gaze and smiled darkly. "I'm always prepared," he said, with a lazy shrug.

"Like a boy scout," Bella quipped, and then her blood thundered through her veins when he smirked in response, deliberately dragging his gaze over her body once more, even slower this time.

 _No_. Most definitively _not_ like a boy scout.

Bella was far too aware of the erotic brush of the soft robe over her bare thighs, of her scrap of lacy underwear, which was now damp with more than just water from the bath. She clenched her thighs together, but somehow that only made her more aware of the quivering knot of tension at her core.

He wanted her.

He wanted her, and she saw the exact moment that he let go of his own leash. She hardly even saw him stand, he moved so quickly, but suddenly he was towering over her, and then leaning down, his hands braced on the arms of her chair.

Bella froze. The sleek power of his body, the enormity of the situation, the intensity of her own desire, all took her by surprise. Edward's lips were parted as though he wanted to inhale her, to devour her.

He watched her through wild eyes, strands of bronze hair falling into his face, his breath coming fast, and then their lips met.

Bella didn't need to think. Her body took over, and the kiss was first tentative, hot and hesitant, then rougher, more desperate. Their breath mingled, her eyes fluttered closed, and one of his hands found her waist, the grip hard and insistent. As they kissed Bella stood, rising so that she could press her body more fully against his. She could already feel his arousal through his pants, like a rod of iron at her belly. His teeth grazed her lips and his fingers dug into her side, pulling her more tightly against him.

After a moment Edward pulled back, only a few inches, but enough for him to stare into her eyes. He was gauging her reaction, making sure that she wanted him too. Bella was swaying on her feet, dizzy and breathless with the taste of him. Her vision narrowed on the flicker of warm light over his harshly masculine jaw, over the lips that still glistened from their kiss, and the flash of his white teeth as he grinned savagely. She was heady with desire. Bella steadied herself with her hands on his shoulders, melting into his body, letting the warmth and firmness of his chest anchor her.

The next kiss was harder, fiercer.

Then his arms were shifting; one looped behind her shoulders and the other caught her behind the knees as he lifted her. Her robe slipped down off of one shoulder, the material sliding down to the top of her breasts, as Edward carried her into the penthouse's other bedroom.

The master bedroom was a corner room, and two of the four walls were made entirely of glass. Outside, the dark sky churned with storm clouds, and far below them the city seethed and pulsed with activity. Bella would have been worried about being seen, but the room was dark and it felt like they were miles above the rest of the world, at a level entirely their own.

It was sensory overload: the blur of the city lights gleaming through the glass, the soft sheets at her back as he eased her onto the bed, the tension that coursed through his body and thrummed against her skin. It was as if he were exercising all the control he had, as though he might lose his mind at any moment.

He pulled away from her for a minute, and Bella moaned in frustration as her hands clutched at thin air. She watched as he reached into his waistband and withdrew something hard and dark.

No, not _that_.

He was taking off the last of his guns; he put the weapon in the top drawer of the armoire and then turned back to her, his eyes dilated with passion.

For an instant, Bella wondered what she was thinking, opening herself to a man who was so feral that he wore weapons like clothes, shedding them only when he got into bed.

Then again, that hardness, that wildness, was part of what drew her to him. It was maddening. Edward turned back to her, climbing over her, mastering her. His shirt was off, revealing the hard planes of his chest, and Bella smoothed her hands over him eagerly, feeling his muscles flex and jump at the touch of her fingers.

Edward opened her robe easily, tugging it off of her in a few smooth motions. His lips found their way to her breasts, and Bella stifled a moan. The sheets tangled around them as they kissed each other, testing, exploring, teasing. Edward slid her panties off, and then Bella could feel him traveling down her body; his fingernails trailed down her bare stomach and she shivered when one of them brushed over her navel, and then continued down. His mouth followed his hands, and Bella's toes curled as she realized where he was headed.

She opened her mouth, intending to warn him that she wasn't quick to climax, and that he might find himself down there for some time. But as his fingers traced down her seam, spreading her, and his tongue just barely glanced off of the bud at her center, the words fled her lips entirely. She moaned, nearly lifting off the bed as her back and neck arched. Maybe it wouldn't take so long after all.

His tongue touched her once more like that, delicately, but her clit was so inflamed that the pleasure jolted through her. The coil of heat in her core twisted tighter, making her legs tremble with the intensity of her arousal.

Then his tongue stroked her again, dipping lower to trace the opening of her womanhood, tasting the wetness there before returning to her clit. His tongue circled her with a powerful rhythm that wound her whole body tighter with every rotation. Bella's core throbbed, and she kept moaning as the relentless twirl of his tongue over her clit pushed her closer and closer to the edge. She wanted him so badly, wanted everything from him.

She wanted Edward to bury himself in her; she wanted him to keep doing what he was doing forever. She lost all sense of time; her body was entirely at Edward's mercy, and he was working her over. The pleasure kept building, taking Bella farther than she had ever gone before - whenever she thought she was about to climax, Edward swirled his tongue in just the right way and drew the pleasure out.

Bella was murmuring things even she couldn't decipher, little pleading whispers that dissolved into moans as the pressure built within her. In the dark sky beyond the penthouse, the clouds must have shifted, because suddenly there was enough moonlight for Bella to make out Edward's face. Even now - especially now - he looked hungry, and Bella's breath caught when she saw the smirk that twisted his lips. He was grinning as he teased her, and somehow that was the fact that drove her over the edge. The coil worked itself tighter and tighter, and Bella shook uncontrollably as she finally lost control.

Shocks of pleasure rippled outward from her clit, and Bella cried out as her whole body was gripped by wave after wave of rapture.

When Bella came down from her climax, she had no sense of time, of how long they had been doing what they were doing.

Edward was kissing her bare body softly, trailing his lips over the delicate skin of her wrist. Bella felt oddly shy. Given what they had just done together it seemed a little late for that particular emotion, but Bella couldn't help it. She had been naked and exposed before him, physically and emotionally, and Edward had . . . Not been. In fact, somehow his pants were still on. Edward was still completely aroused, Bella could tell that much from the hardness that jutted into her thigh, through his pants. He was also breathing so heavily you might have thought that he was the one who had just gotten off.

What did this mean, anyway? Her euphoria dampened by a moment of anxiety, Bella could feel her tendency to overanalyze returning. And why wasn't he trying for anything more? She had climaxed, but he hadn't. Then again, in her first few, vulnerable moments post-orgasm she found herself oddly hesitant again, unsure whether she was relieved or disappointed that he wasn't making a move to take the next step.

"Bella?"

Edward's voice startled Bella. The heat had taken over so suddenly and so powerfully that words had seemed unnecessary.

Now, they were necessary again.

Time for that talk.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Author's Note**_ : Hello everyone! I hope you're enjoying the weekend! This chapter is sort of a special one, since you'll get a (brief) peek into Edward's POV. I thought it was time for us to hear from our leading guy. :)

* * *

Edward knew what Bella was going to ask. He had felt the question hovering on her lips the whole day. He shouldn't have wanted her to ask it. But he did.

"I mean, it's a weird situation," Bella said, all in a rush, as though she were in a hurry to get the words out. She shifted, moving to pull the blankets over herself, and he didn't want to let her move, but he released his hold on her, watching her intently. Bella took a deep breath, "I mean, a week ago, you didn't know who I was."

Strictly speaking, that wasn't true, but Bella didn't need to know that.

Edward had known who Bella was for some time. He couldn't remember when she had first become interesting to him; it had happened gradually. At some point during his frequent stays at the Ashley Eden, he had become aware of a petite, dark-haired maid with a beautifully animated face.

In Edward's world, a communicative face was a death sentence; the last thing you wanted was for your face to telegraph your secrets. People bluffed with every expression and wore faces like masks.

Bella was the opposite.

Her job was mundane; it would have been easy for her to sleepwalk through it, retreating into some sort of stupor in order to get through the day. Instead, every time he saw her, she seemed more alive than the time before. If she wasn't whispering intently with her friend (whose name, he later learned, was Angela), she was laughing helplessly at some joke the bellboy had told, or scribbling earnestly away in her notebook, or staring daggers at a rude coworker, or watching a particularly pompous guest with just a touch of wry humor turning up the corners of her delectable lips.

And when she looked at him. . .

Well, maybe Bella thought she was being subtle, but Edward was familiar enough with women to recognize lust, even in shy eyes.

She wasn't the sort of woman he'd usually date, but he'd indulged a fantasy, imagined those beautiful dark eyes clouded with passion in a moment of ecstasy. The image had seared itself into his mind and sent an erotic jolt through him. He'd found himself desiring her, wanting her so intensely that he caught himself scanning the hotel lobby for the sight of her every time he checked in.

The force of his need for her had taken him by surprise.

She wasn't the sort of woman he usually dated. Like Emmett, Edward had tended to date models and starlets. Most of his girlfriends had been stunning, legendary beauties, the kind of women who inspired artists and photographers. But there was a coldness to them, too. A sharpness to those cut-glass cheekbones, a savage misery to those wasp-thin waists starved impossibly narrow with fasting, a desperation in those liquid, luminous eyes.

Bella wasn't cold, or sharp, or starved or desperate. She had no cut-glass cheekbones, no crushed-glass smile. She wasn't an artist's muse; she was an artist.

Once Edward started looking for her, he seemed to see her everywhere. One evening, when he left the hotel at dusk, he saw her standing on the sidewalk outside the hotel, scribbling vigorously into a notebook. As he drew closer, he had realized that she was sketching the pigeons on a nearby roof.

There was a steady stream of people on the sidewalk, and given her small stature Bella must have needed to plant her feet firmly to withstand being jostled by the crowd. But she had maintained her position, sketching furiously, brows drawn low with determination, eyes a little wide as though she saw something rare or beautiful.

As far as Edward could see, it was just a bunch of pigeons on a gutter, half-obscured by smoke from a nearby chimney. But Bella had seen something else; he could tell from the fervent glow in her eyes as she sketched. For a moment, he had almost wanted to trade eyes with her, to get to see the world as she saw it, as living art. Maybe if he saw his life with her vision, he would see something more than harshness and cruelty. There was something transformative about her gaze.

And now she was gazing at him, chewing her lip worriedly, and studying him as though she wanted to read his mind. "Well, what do you think?" She asked.

Edward raised an eyebrow, "was there a question somewhere in there?"

She flushed, and he had a momentary flashback to what her face had looked like just a few brief moments ago. She had been completely and entirely under his power, writhing sensually with the force of her own climax. He wanted to see her like that again; he wanted to keep her in his bed all night, to get to know all the complexities of her beautiful body, to make her his in every possible way.

But, first things first. Bella was watching him warily, and when he smiled at her, she shivered.

"What . . . Are we?" Bella asked, and then, when he opened his mouth to give the obvious answer, she quickly shook her head. "I mean, besides _married_. We both know that we didn't get married for the usual reasons. But, what now?" Her gorgeous dark eyes fixed on him, and he could feel the weight of her hope. She couldn't hide her feelings to save her life.

Her sincerity and passionate earnestness were at once compelling and mildly horrifying. She had no idea what she was getting herself into.

"I mean, if you wanted, we could try to actually give it a shot. Making this a real marriage, I mean. A real relationship…" There was a studied casualness to Bella's tone, as though she didn't want to betray the intensity of her own desires, but it was a pointless effort.

He knew how badly she wanted him. He also knew that the odds were good she would live to regret him one day. Almost everyone he encountered seemed to live to regret it (if they lived at all), even his own sister.

He knew that the right thing would be to start distancing himself, to make it clear that this was to be a marriage for appearance's sake only.

Unfortunately, he wasn't the kind of person who tended to do the right thing. And as he loomed above her, staring down at the beauty that wanted to be his - _all his_ \- he decided to give them both what they wanted.

"Do you want to?" Bella asked, and her voice was slightly shaky.

"Yes." Edward said, and he wondered if she could hear the dark undertone in his affirmative.

Evidently not. Her eyes lit up, burning with that characteristic glow. In that moment she was so earth-shatteringly beautiful it took his breath away. And she looked happy.

Too happy.

No one who understood the harsh realities of his world could possibly look that happy.

His skin prickled uncomfortably. She was beaming at him like he had done something wonderful, and, unexpectedly, Edward felt a stirring of guilt.

He should have kept her at arms' length. It would have been the chivalrous thing to do.

But damn it, he wanted her so badly.

Now he felt like an angel of destruction. He was giving her what she asked for, even though she didn't yet realize how dark his world could be.

No matter. She was his; he had taken responsibility for her. He would make sure that she survived the transition into his world; he would keep her safe. And if she hated him by the end of it, well, then, he would remind her of this night.


	11. Chapter 11

_She'd done it._

Even as she kissed Edward, Bella couldn't help the smile that was overtaking her face, turning up the corner of her lips as she tasted his.

She'd thrown off her risk-adverse tendencies, asked the questions, had the conversation, and now she and Edward had agreed to try to make a go of it. It was the best case scenario, and she felt weightless, light enough to float away. She caught her breath as the kiss deepened, and, with a thrill, she heard Edward unzipping his pants.

She shivered with anticipation.

It was all perfect.

Except for that loud hammering sound. That was not perfect.

Bella frowned, breaking the kiss.

"What's wrong?" Edward asked. His eyes were dilated with passion, his breath coming in savage pants. "Bella?"

She held up a finger, and then he heard it as well. Someone was pounding on the penthouse door. "Edward!" The deep voice was unmistakable.

Edward lifted himself off of her. His bronze hair was gorgeously mussed, and the muscles in his face were taut with arousal. "What the _fuck_?" He muttered. "What _now_?"

Bella didn't think she'd ever seen him look so irritated. With a sigh he dropped one last kiss on her lips and then leapt off the bed, pausing to grab his gun from the armoire.

Bella frowned at the sight of the gun. "Edward, I'm pretty sure that's Emmett. You're not going to shoot your brother?"

"Maybe." Edward snapped over his shoulder as he padded into the parlor, muttering something under his breath about incompetence and inconvenient timing.

Bella pulled on her robe and followed Edward, arriving in the parlor just in time to see Emmett stepping over the penthouse threshold.

The bearlike man took in his brother's half-dressed state and winced. "Sorry man. Bad timing, I know."

" _Very_." It was startling, how quickly Edward's tone could go from hot and intimate to icy. "What's wrong now?"

"It's Jasper. It's not good."

"Alice found out he's dead?" Edward now looked even tenser than he had when he'd opened the door. Bella made a mental note to ask Edward for the details of the Alice & Jasper situation as soon as he had a spare moment. She was tired of being left in the dark about Alice.

Emmett shook his head. "Nah, that's the problem. He's not dead."

" _What_?"

"He was injured, but not seriously. The bastard limped straight out of the warehouse into a waiting car, and he hasn't been seen or heard from by any of our people since."

Edward cursed. "Did Alice tell you this?"

"No man, I saw it on the news.

Edward clenched his jaw. "I bet she knew though. I thought she was taking the reports of his death surprisingly well. She didn't even bring it up at lunch."

"Guess she knew he wasn't actually dead," Emmett scratched his head.

"Fuck. She's still in contact with him. I don't know what to do about this."

"Well, we have bigger problems than Romeo and Juliet right now. There was just a retaliatory attack down in Miami. Some of his guys hit one of our warehouses."

"What?"

"Yeah. We're thinking at least a few of our guys are dead. Maybe as many as seven… Anyway it's not good. We need to do major damage control asap and usually we'd rely on Alice for this kind of thing, but. . ."

"Yeah, yeah," Edward raked a hand through his hair. "I get it. Give me five minutes and I'll be ready to go." He hesitated then, glancing intently at Bella.

"No, go do what you have to do," Bella said. "I'll be fine."

Edward's eyes, darker than usual, scanned her face closely. Was he expecting her to freak out? "I'm going to have one of our guys stand outside the door. Just for tonight. It's unlikely, but just in case there's any more trouble, I don't want you here alone."

"I'll be fine." Bella repeated again. She wasn't sure exactly what was happening in Miami, but she knew that this sort of thing was going to be a part of her life now, like it or not, and whether or not she was able to handle the pressure and uncertainty would be a big part of whether her relationship with Edward failed or succeeded. She intended for it to succeed.

Emmett glanced curiously from Edward to Bella. "If you want, I could ask Rosalie to come over and stay with you," he offered.

" _ **No**_." Edward and Bella answered simultaneously.

". . . But thank you." Bella added diplomatically.

She followed Edward into the bedroom as returned there to get dressed.

"Do whatever you want," he told her. "Sleep, order room service, whatever. . . Just don't leave the penthouse. Not yet. I'm not sure what exactly this latest play from Jasper means, and just in case he has more violence planned I don't want you to get caught in the crossfire. I'm sorry," he added, almost awkwardly, as though he wasn't used to apologizing. "But this is what my life is like," he added, his green eyes gauging her reaction carefully.

He was testing her already, watching for any cracks. Well, Bella wasn't going to show him any. Her life may not have been as action-packed as his, but it hadn't been easy, either. She could handle a few bumps in the road, and as far as she was concerned, one night holed up in a penthouse with free rein over both minibar and room service hardly even qualified as a bump.

"I'm fine." She told him, and she meant it. "Just take care of yourself."

"Oh, I'll be fine," Edward laughed shortly, but his eyes were blazing with fury. "But when I track Jasper down, his days are numbered."

* * *

Five minutes later, Bella was alone in the penthouse, anxiously pacing the length of the parlor, her bare feet sinking into the luxuriously thick rug as her mind whirled. On the enormous flat-screen behind her, the late night news cut to a live feed of a burning warehouse.

Bella briefly stopped pacing to grab the remote and turn up the volume a few notches so that she could hear the reporters.

"I'm Jim Horton with CBY. Carol Preston is on the scene. Carol, from what I understand, something similar happened last night?"

"Hi Jim. You're absolutely right, this is the second of such attacks to occur in downtown Miami in less than 24 hours. Late last night, a similar incident was reported at a warehouse just east of where I'm standing. Witnesses report that gunfire was heard just minutes before the entire building was engulfed in flames. The owner, shipping magnate Jasper Hale, was reportedly in the building when the fire broke out. He was initially believed to have been killed in the blaze. As it turns out, however, he was able to escape the flames with only minor injuries."

"And what about tonight's attack, Carol? What do we know? Do we know who the building belongs to?"

"Actually, Jim, we do. This is one of a number of local warehouses belonging to Edward Cullen, one of the members of the billionaire Cullen family. At just past 10 pm, workers in neighboring structures reported hearing a series of muffled gunshots, and then several explosions. Within moments the entire building was on fire. Right now, as you can see behind me, firefighters are still struggling to put out the blaze, which, while contained to this single warehouse, is proving difficult to extinguish. It's not yet known if there were people inside the warehouse at the time of the explosion, or whether there have been any casualties."

"Thank you Carol. Cullen, who has been a person of interest in numerous criminal investigations over the past decade - though he has never been officially charged with any crime- is a high profile resident of Manhattan. His family's combined net worth is estimated to be over 3.6 billion, and while many of his business dealings are reported to be of a dubious nature, there has never been any incontrovertible evidence of wrongdoing. Mr. Cullen is regularly in and out of the public eye for one reason or another, but you might recall having heard his name quite recently. That's right, just this morning Cullen made headlines nationwide when it was announced that he had eloped with a young woman who had been previously employed as a maid at the New York City hotel where he typically resides. The news was considered notable because of its unexpectedness and its Cinderella-story quality."

Just at that moment, the feed of the burning building was momentarily replaced by a photo of a very familiar face.

Bella's jaw dropped. It was her. There was a photo of _her_ on the news. It was one of her old Facebook profile photos, a shot of her on the steps of the New York Public Library, pointing to one of the giant lion statues. Bella grimaced. So dorky. She could practically feel Rosalie's eyes rolling from across town.

"Carol, have we been able to get in touch with Edward Cullen yet?"

"No, Jim, as yet, the Cullen family hasn't issued an official statement on the fire, but the violent nature of both last night's fire, and this one, have led some to speculate that the Cullen family and Hale, Inc., may be in the midst of some sort of violent dispute. Back to you Jim…"

There was a faint buzzing sound coming from the couch. Her phone was vibrating.

Oh, God, her father was calling. Bella was tempted to let it go to voicemail, but that would set off Charlie's cop radar something fierce, and the last thing she wanted to do was make him more anxious than he already was. It was past midnight. If Charlie was calling her this late, it had to be because he had seen her photo on the news.

With slightly shaky hands, Bella reached for her phone.

"Hi Dad," Bella said softly. She hated the guilty tone of her voice but she couldn't help it. She couldn't imagine what her father thought of having his daughter's photo appear on the nightly news in connection with a possible mob war. She braced herself for a deluge of questions and criticisms.

None came.

"You know, Bella," her father said thoughtfully, "I've been thinking it over, and I'd like to have that family dinner that you were talking about."

"Um, okay?" Bella said, reaching hastily for the remote control so that she could mute the television. "Um, dinner sounds good," she said, when she had finally silenced the reporters, who were now speculating about some of Jasper Hale's less savory business endeavors. "Yeah, dinner would be good. How about on . . ."

"How about _tomorrow_?" Her father suggested, in a tone so mild it was almost breezy.

Bella's heart sank. Her father had definitely seen the news. She wasn't sure why he was playing it so cagey, rather than throwing the fit she would have expected, but she was sure he had something up his sleeve.

"Um, well, I'll have to check to see if Edward's available."

"Okay, well, you do that, and if he is, I expect the two of you over here at 6pm sharp. I'll make Spaghetti Bolognese. Bring wine."

"Okay, sounds good, I'll let you know if . . . Dad?" Bella paused. There was a click. Her dad had hung up.

Bella went in the bathroom to splash some cool water on her face. She was still overheated from her encounter with Edward, and now the added tension of both the Jasper situation and her father's call was making her jumpy. She dampened her face and then sat down cross-legged on the chilled bathroom tile.

Her thoughts returned to Edward, and, despite everything else that was going on, she couldn't help but smile.

Bella's phone, which was still clutched in her hand, buzzed. She glanced down at the screen, and her eyebrows raised.

While she and Edward had been . . . er, getting to know each other, her phone had been inundated with a slew of text messages from Mike.

Bella blinked.

Mike.

It was startling how little she'd thought about him in the past few days. They'd been together almost a decade, but Bella's hasty marriage to Edward seemed to have wiped almost every trace of Mike from her mind. Well, if she'd been looking for proof that she and Mike were not meant to be, this was it. If she'd really cared about him, it wouldn't have been so easy to forget about him the minute she and Edward became an item. The real question was: why had she stayed with Mike for so long after her feelings for him faded?

With a sigh, Bella scrolled through his most recent messages.

 _oh so your ignoring me now_

 _is this some kind of twisted mind game to make me want you more?_

 _dont even think about crawling back to me when hes tired of you_

 _and he will get tired of you_

 _i did_

 _you think i was really practicing with the band all those late nights?_

 _still not responding huh?_

 _well i won't bore you with the details but there's a lot you dont know is all im saying_

 _whatever ill just find someone new_

 _i actually already have someone_

 _didnt want to hurt your feelings but who cares_

 _unlike you shes actually good in bed_

 _maybe ill upgrade_

 _maybe i can sell myself to the highest bidder like you_

Bella made a face and stopped reading. She had let her relationship with Mike drag on way too long, out of some bizarre combination of apathy and a twisted sense of loyalty. It was kind of gross, looking back on it. And she was pretty sure that Mike wasn't lying about at least some of those late nights.

Bella's phone buzzed as she received a new text message.

Bella sighed. At some point she should probably text Mike back. Maybe something concise and to the point, like, " _leave me alone_." She glanced back down at her screen, expecting to see another message from Mike, but this latest text was from an unknown number. She hit the screen with her thumb to open the new message.

And then her eyes got very wide.

* * *

 _ **From: unknown**_

 _ **12:22 am**_

 _I know about Williamson. You're both going to pay._


	12. Chapter 12

"How can Edward not know who sent the text? I mean, how many enemies does he have?" Bella asked, picking anxiously at her omelette with a fork.

"Don't ask that question unless you're sure that you're prepared for the answer." Alice answered, in between sips of her mimosa.

Bella gazed contemplatively at her new sister-in-law. Alice looked as striking as ever. Her outfit was simple: dark wash jeans and a black shirt - Rosalie would probably be horrified by the basic ensemble - but it was Alice's face that really made her stand out. Her short hair framed her startlingly pretty features, accentuating her delicate bone-structure and the dark eyeliner that rimmed her bright eyes.

They were sitting in the hotel's brightly-lit breakfast room, and Alice was outlined by the morning sun that streamed in the windows behind her head. It illuminated the raven sheen of her hair, but left most of her face in shadow.

Alice was more subdued this morning than she had been on their previous encounters. Her demeanor was quietly thoughtful, and when she turned her head a certain way there was a trace of something stark and bleak on her face.

Pain. It was pain. It wasn't obvious; it hid behind the wry twist of Alice's lips, but Bella could see it all the same.

Bella hesitated. She wanted to ask Alice about Jasper, about Emmett's 'Romeo and Juliet' comment from the night before, but this was the most peaceful she'd ever seen Alice, and it felt like they were bonding. Bella didn't want to destroy the moment. Instead, she studied Alice a moment more and then looked away, back at her omelette, and her untouched mimosa.

For the first time in her life, Bella was brunching. It wasn't the sort of thing she'd ever had much time for, between her full-time job at the Ashley Eden, a side gig babysitting, and her evening art classes. But this morning the suite had been overwhelmed with chaotic activity. All of the Cullens had descended on the hotel as soon as the sun rose, and Eric had set up his assorted devices in the parlor. There was mass chaos as they all tried to figure out how to determine the sender of the mysterious text message.

Alice was the only one who didn't act particularly alarmed; she seemed preoccupied.

"But why would whoever it is send the text to me, rather than Edward?" Bella asked.

Alice shook her head. "Maybe your number was easier to get ahold of. Edward goes to some effort to keep his number private and unlisted; we all do."

"Yeah, maybe that's it," Bella agreed, but she couldn't help the feeling that there was something, some detail, some angle, that she was missing.

The sound of a phone buzzing caught them both by surprise. Bella felt a chill creeping up her spine before she realized that it was Alice's phone that was vibrating.

Alice glanced at the caller id, and a slight smile turned up her lips. "I've got to take this," she said, quickly pushing her chair back from the table and dropping her napkin on her seat.

"Huh." Bella watched as Alice hurried outside, already murmuring intently into her cell phone. No matter how complicated Bella found her own life, it seemed like Alice's was doubly so.

Bella was still staring after Alice when she had the unmistakable feeling that she was being watched. Her gaze swept the breakfast room as she searched for whoever was watching her. There was a middle-aged couple observing her curiously from a few tables away, but Bella didn't think their inquisitive stares were what she had sensed. Most likely they had just recognized her from last night's news coverage.

No, there was someone else. Bella kept looking, and then her eyes landed on a tall dark figure by the brunch table.

There was a man watching her from across the breakfast room.

He was tall, over six feet, and bulky. His white shirt clung to his well defined chest, and his shoulders were almost too broad for his black suit. His dark hair was a little on the long side, a little on the wild side, and there was a touch of something exotic about his features . . . Maybe Native American? It was hard to say. But his eyes… His eyes smoldered, for lack of a better word. And not entirely in a positive way, either. Bella couldn't say why, but she got the distinct impression that he was angry… but whether he was angry with her or with life it was hard to say.

Still, there was something oddly personal about his stare. Bella was sure that she hadn't met him before; she wouldn't forget a guy who looked like him, but he was watching her as though they had some kind of personal acquaintance.

His gaze sharpened; he had caught her watching him. He smiled, and it was a dangerous smile. Bella quickly looked away, but nevertheless, she could feel him approaching her table.

" _Isabella Swan_. The tabloid pictures don't do you justice."

He knew her name. Well, that was just a tad creepy.

"Do you mind if I join you?" His voice was deep and reverberated with dark intentions.

Bella sighed. She wasn't an idiot. She knew trouble when she saw it, and she was already unexpectedly married to one dangerous man. She didn't need another one making her life any more complicated. "I would rather you didn't. I'm sitting with someone. She just had to take a call."

Undeterred, the dark-eyed man just cocked his head. "Well then, do you mind if I stand?" He grinned, rather the way a wolf would grin at a rabbit, and rested his hands on the back of Alice's empty chair.

Bella groaned internally. Definitely trouble. "Have we met?" She asked, pointedly. She was pretty positive that this was the 'stalker' Angela had warned her about, but she wasn't sure exactly what the protocol was when interacting with one's stalker.

"Not formally, no, I'm-"

"Jacob Black." The name was pronounced with such cold fury that it took Bella a minute to recognize Edward's voice.

Jacob's posture shifted immediately. His hands formed fists and his eyes narrowed. "Edward."

Edward was freshly showered. His damp hair grazed the tops of his shoulders and framed the chiseled bones of his face and the ever-changing green of his eyes.

He was dressed down today; he wore no suit, just a black leather jacket over a dark shirt and jeans, but Bella could tell from the way his hand rested - almost casually - near his waistband, that he was carrying his usual arsenal. Edward stepped forward, resting his other hand on Bella's shoulder, a possessive gesture that might normally have been slightly endearing, but at the moment just served to highlight the animosity between the two men.

Bella had seen Edward in tense moments before, but this was perhaps the most overtly threatening she had ever seen him. The air around him was charged, and there was a savage, calculating blaze in his eyes.

Whoever this Jacob Black character was, Edward seemed to have a healthy respect for the threat he posed. Meanwhile, Edward's sudden appearance had unnerved Jacob slightly, but within seconds the man regained his cool.

"I was just talking to your lovely wife, Edward."

"Well, my lovely wife has an appointment elsewhere, so if you'd like to keep talking you'll have to converse with me."

Bella tilted her head back to look up at Edward. "Edward, who is this?"

"This is Jacob Black of the FBI."

"Such a surprise, your marriage." Jacob continued. "It seems no one knew you two were even involved until the night you eloped…"

Edward grinned savagely. "What? Your round the clock surveillance team couldn't even tell I had a girlfriend?" He shook his head, but the mocking grin remained. "The FBI disappoints once more. Where _are_ my tax dollars going?"

"Oh, do you pay taxes, Edward? I hadn't realized. Be sure to let the IRS know. Last I spoke to them they seemed to have a different view." Jacob flexed his shoulders casually.

Bella couldn't help it; she rolled her eyes. "Charming as this has been," she said, "I think Alice and I are supposed to go shopping today. I'd better get ready." She moved to stand and Edward moved with her, wrapping his arm around her waist.

Jacob's hot gaze returned to Bella, and it was altogether too intimate. "It was a pleasure to meet you Ms. Swan. I hope to meet again soon."

" _Cullen_." Edward corrected him swiftly. "And you won't be meeting her again."

Jacob's smile didn't falter. "We'll see."


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note** : Hi everyone! I know that this chapter has been a long time coming, but… I have some exciting news.

First of all, despite the lack of updates, I **have** been working on _Flirting with Disaster_ the past few weeks: I've outlined the story all of the way to the end! We're still a long way from the end of the story, but I have a solid outline and a new updating schedule. I'm also, ahem, _flirting_ with the idea of writing a sequel, but I haven't decided yet if it will continue Edward and Bella's story, or focus on one of the other couples in the story – let me know what you think!

Without further ado, **enjoy** …. This chapter has a lot of family angst, but in the next chapter we'll have a return to sexytimes (my favorite)!

-Rebecca

* * *

Bella arrived at her father's apartment in a whirl of black silk and nerves.

Her shopping trip with Alice had proved surprisingly fruitful. Bella had never been much of a shopper; having no money and almost no closet space kind of took the fun out of buying clothes. But in just one afternoon with Alice she had purchased close to fifteen outfits.

Still, even with all of the new clothes, Bella had been considering wearing her usual uniform of jeans and a T-shirt to dinner at her father's. These new clothes didn't feel like her. They were slinky and stylish, delicate and dry-clean-only. They looked like they should belong to someone like Rosalie, the kind of woman who wouldn't even consider stepping outside to get the mail without mascara and Louboutins.

That wasn't Bella. Alice and Edward might not have known that, but Bella knew it, and her father would as well. Still, she'd bought the darn things, so she might as well wear them.

Tonight's outfit was a black silk dress, clingy enough to be fashionable, but knee-length so that Charlie wouldn't have a heart attack.

Edward was wearing a black suit and carried a bottle of wine. He had picked it out himself, so Bella hated to think what it had cost.

She took a deep breath before knocking, and then stepped back in surprise when her Aunt Maria opened the door.

"Hi Aunt Ri," Bella said, kissing her aunt on the cheek. "I didn't know you would be here."

"Oh, Bella, you look beautiful. What a lovely dress. And you…." Bella's aunt turned to Edward. "You must be _Edward Cullen_ ," Maria said, in a tone of hushed admiration. "Wait till I tell the neighbors that I've had dinner with a billionaire."

Bella winced. "Well, no need to broadcast it…" she murmured, as Maria clasped Edward's hand reverently.

Bella glanced over her aunt's shoulder, and caught sight of a pile of tabloids stacked on the living room armchair. The one on the top looked a few years old, and it featured a photo of Emmett and Rosalie getting married.

"Been studying, Aunt Ri?" Bella asked drily.

"Just getting to know my new nephew-in-law."

Bella glanced back at Edward, wondering how he felt about having Manhattan's nosiest aunt as his new in-law. Surprisingly enough, he seemed to find the whole thing quite amusing.

"Have you met her yet?" Aunt Maria asked eagerly. "Rosalie Rochester, I mean. She's your new sister-in-law, after all!"

There was a cough from the kitchen. "Ri, hon, why don't you give them a little space and help me with this garlic bread?" Charlie called.

Much to Bella's surprise, Aunt Maria actually bustled off into the kitchen. It must have taken every ounce of self-control she had not to immediately give Edward the third degree; Charlie must have talked to her ahead of time.

But that wasn't the biggest surprise the evening had in store for Bella. When Charlie finally stepped out of the kitchen to greet them, Bella got the shock of her life.

Charlie looked ten years younger. At first, it was too much to take in, and Bella couldn't quite pin down what it was about him that had changed.

Then she realized: it wasn't just one thing. It was _everything_. He was clean-shaven. There wasn't so much as a five o'clock shadow. And his hair was cut. After years of a scraggly beard and unkempt hair, it was shock to see him with a crew cut and a shave.

Not only that, but he was wearing a button-down. With jeans. It had to be the first time in months that Bella had seen him out of sweats. Bella was so startled that she didn't even react when her father ignored Edward's outstretched hand.

"Bella, honey, how are you?" Her father pulled her into a hug.

Bella relaxed into the embrace, and then stiffened, sniffing. "Dad, are you wearing…" she sniffed again, "…cologne?"

Charlie laughed. "Yes. I do that from time to time."

 _Like hell you do_. Bella thought, but she kept that thought to herself, instead marveling over the next miracle. "Your shirt is ironed…" she muttered numbly as her father stepped back into the kitchen. "You never iron your clothes."

"I don't think you need to worry about him." Edward told her quietly. "He looks good." His eyebrows were raised in surprise.

"Good?" Bella whispered back in disbelief. "He looks incredible. Jesus, if I'd known that it would make him turn his whole life around, I would have married a mobster years ago."

Edward stifled a chuckle as Charlie stepped back out of the kitchen and waved them inside. "Come on you two, what are you waiting for?"

"Coming, Dad." Hiding a small smile, Bella took Edward's hand and led him into her childhood kitchen.

* * *

At first things went deceptively well. They made it through the salad and garlic bread with only minimal embarrassment, but once he brought the Spaghetti Bolognese out, Charlie's attitude changed.

He started to ask questions.

"So, how did you two meet again?"

"At the hotel, daddy." Bella helped herself to a little more parmesan cheese and tried to stay cool.

"Yes, I know that much. But how? When? Most newlyweds love to talk about how they met. Isn't that right, Maria?"

For once, surprisingly, Aunt Ri stayed quiet. She must have realized that Charlie was on the warpath.

Bella would have to tread carefully. "Well…" she began, trying to quickly come up with some suitably believable first-meeting story. "I was taking up Edward's dry cleaning, and…"

She paused, glancing up and meeting Edward's emerald gaze. There was the slightest of smirks turning up the corner of his lips. Apparently he found her predicament funny, which Bella found hard to believe, because _she_ was panicking. Her father was right: what kind of newlyweds didn't have a charming story about how they first met?

 _The kind who meet and get engaged in the middle of the night immediately following a murder…_ Bella reminded herself.

 _Not. Helpful._

"Well, anyway…" Bella racked her brains to try to come up with something. "I was bringing up the dry cleaning, and…"

"And I answered the door, took one look at her, and asked her out." Edward cut in smoothly.

He had taken pity on her after all. Bella smiled, and Edward grinned back.

On the floor next to her foot, Bella's purse vibrated.

Without thinking, Bella pulled out her phone and glanced down at the screen. There it was. The same threatening text message from last night. Whoever was sending it had decided to start harassing her again.

"What was that?" Charlie asked.

"Just a text, daddy," Bella said, slipping her phone back into her purse, but when her father looked away she glanced meaningfully at Edward.

His jaw tightened and his green eyes darkened.

"So anyway, you were saying? Something about dry-cleaning? And, remind me, weren't you dating Mike while all of this was going on?"

Bella shifted uncomfortably as her cell phone buzzed again. "Pass the breadsticks?" Bella asked, reaching back into her purse to silence her phone.

"Someone seems very keen to get in touch with you," Charlie said, eying her phone shrewdly as he passed the basket of breadsticks. "Maybe it's your boyfriend." He suggested brightly.

Edward's gaze sharpened to dagger-like focus. "Bella doesn't have a boyfriend."

Charlie's eyes widened in sarcastic surprise. "No?"

"No." Edward confirmed, and for the first time that evening, Bella could hear a little bit of anger in his voice. "Bella has a husband. _**Me**_." As he spoke he leaned forward, almost threateningly.

Bella reached out casually and rested her fingers on his arm. He glanced back at her, irritation evident on his face. Bella shook her head slightly. _Calm down_ , she tried to telegraph with her eyes. _He's just testing you_.

Edward must have gotten the message because he settled back in his chair, but his hands were braced on his knees and there was a challenge in his gaze.

Charlie nodded. "Oh. Right. Of course. Terribly sorry. Can't keep up. Millennials, you know. They go through relationships so _quickly_. And last I remember, Bella was with Mike. And from what I've heard, no one even knew that you two were dating."

Bella paused with a forkful of spaghetti halfway to her mouth. "From what you've heard? Heard from who? Dad, who have you been talking to?"

Her father shrugged. "No one in particular."

Bella didn't buy it. "No one?" she pressed. "So who told you that no one knew Edward and I were dating?"

"Hm." Charlie stared at his plate pensively. "Oh, you know who it must have been? It must have been that nice FBI agent."

Silence.

Bella took a deep, steadying breath. "Agent Black? You've been talking to the FBI?"

"Oh honey, don't look so worried. We just had a little chat that's all. Nothing to fuss about. Although, you'd be surprised the things he told me about your new hubby."

Now Edward was really looking dangerous. When he spoke his voice had that smooth and easy tone that Bella was beginning to recognize as a very bad sign. "Charlie," Edward said silkily, "I was hoping that we wouldn't have to have this conversation, but-"

"Just stop it, dad," Bella interrupted, staring at her father. "I'm a grown woman. I know what I'm doing, and you need to stop interfering before you really start to screw up my life."

Charlie gestured innocently. "I just want to make sure you're okay. I know you're a grown woman, but you've always been too nice for your own good. I worry about you. I always have. It's my job to protect you."

Bella laughed, but when she spoke, her voice was harder than she had intended. "Well, I don't know Dad, after mom died, you seemed to think that I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And I was _eight_."

Silence reigned.

Charlie blinked.

Edward shifted so that he could watch his wife. This was a side of her that he had never seen before.

Cousin Marie's face fell, and a shadow of something like pain passed through her eyes. "Bella, honey, this isn't the time…"

"Really?" Bella asked her. "Because it feels like the time. Do you have any idea how many years I wished that he would take some interest in what was happening in my life, and now at the worst possible moment he suddenly decides that it's time to be an involved dad again?"

"I've always been your father. I've always been…"

Bella dropped her fork and stood. She couldn't help herself. She had desperately wanted this dinner to be a success, but her father was pressing too many of her buttons, resurrecting too much pain from the past. "Is that a joke? You've _always_ been my dad? What about all the years when I was _your_ parent? Helping with the bills, doing the laundry, coaxing you into getting out of bed and getting dressed? What about all of those years, dad? What about the middle school art show where I was the only kid who had no family members show up? Or the 11th grade musical that you didn't even know I was in?" Bella's voice cracked. She didn't want to talk about this. She didn't even want to think about it, but she couldn't handle Charlie's sudden about-face. It was too abrupt, and she was too bitter. After she spent half her childhood wishing that her dad would snap out of it and remember that he wasn't just a widower, but also a father, Charlie chose _now_ to get in touch with his paternal instincts?

Charlie blinked. "Is that what this is about . . . You want _revenge,_ so you marry a common criminal? You want to hurt me that badly?"

Tears sprang to Bella's eyes. "Hurt you? You think I want to _hurt_ you? After everything we've been through? You think I'm some spoiled brat who just wants to make her daddy angry?" She was crying openly now. "For god's sake, why can't you just trust me?"

Suddenly, there was a firm hand on her shoulder. "I think it's time to go." Edward said, his voice deep.

Bella shrugged him off, stepping towards her father. She was shocked by how upset she was. Her fingers were shaking; she couldn't tell if she was crying or yelling.

"I've fended for myself for _years_. I didn't want to; I had to. And now that I finally want a little space, a little trust, you decide it's time to be papa bear? Too little too late."

"Well, if you don't approve of my parenting skills, you can take your… _husband_ , and get out of my home." Now Charlie was really angry, and his words jarred Bella like a slap to the face.

"Fine." Bella snapped. "Fine. We'll play it that way. Just remember, when you realize you've forgotten to pay the electric bill again, or when your social security isn't enough to cover the rent: _**call someone else**_. I've had it. I've been your rock for years…. Now I finally have a chance to be happy and have my own life, and you're trying to sabotage it."

To her surprise, her father looked close to tears as well, but when he opened his mouth he was shouting. "Isabella Swan, if you leave this house right now, you will **never** be welcome back! I didn't raise you to act like this!"

"Charlie, please," Maria said, jumping to her feet as well. "This isn't right. Think about what you're saying!"

Bella stared squarely into her father's eyes. "Dad, you didn't raise me _at all_."

For a moment everyone seemed frozen.

"Then **get out**." Charlie said finally, acidly. But Bella had already gone.

* * *

Later, in the car, Bella couldn't stop crying.

"I shouldn't have said that," she told Edward. "I've never said anything like that to him before."

Edward still looked angry. "You were upset." He said bluntly, "and it sounds like you had good reason." He knocked on the glass partition that separated them from the driver, and ordered the man to take them back to the hotel.

"I shouldn't have done it," Bella repeated. "It was a low blow. He was crushed after my mom died. Everyone handles grief differently. He just… shut down."

"And you were just a child." Edward said. "Believe me, I know what it's like to parent a parent. There are few things harder on a kid." A muscle jumped in his jaw.

Bella shook her head. "I just got so angry. I've never gotten angry at him like that." She blinked tears out of her eyes and stared at Edward. She expected him to be put off by her display of family dysfunction, but he was just watching her unflinchingly, as if he were taking it all in, all of the sadness, all of the mess. Steady as a rock, but with eyes that seemed to mirror her pain.

Somehow, right then, it struck her that they were well-matched after all. Maybe it was impossible to see from the outside, but there was an understanding between them that couldn't quite be put into words.

Bella exhaled shakily. Her hands were still trembling, and Edward took off his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders. She clutched the material and leaned against him, comforted by the hardness of his body and the scent of his clothes.

They sat in silence for a little while, as Bella reflected on everything she'd said. Her heart was already heavy with guilt. After a few minutes she tilted her head back to gaze up at Edward.

"I really love my dad," she told him mournfully.

Edward shrugged easily. "Then we'll try again. We'll give him some time to cool down, and then we'll give dinner another shot."

"Really? You're willing to go through that again?" Bella said in disbelief.

Edward inclined his head with a wry grin. "Well, maybe we'll start with coffee and work our way up to dinner."

"So you're not angry that he talked to Jacob Black?" Bella asked.

"Oh, I am," Edward said with conviction. "But I blame Jacob more than your father. I'm going to need to do something about Black. Sooner rather than later."

Bella decided not to think too carefully about what that might mean. "I don't think my dad is going to want to talk to me."

"He'll come around." Edward said confidently.

He had no way of knowing that for sure, but Bella was comforted by his assurances nonetheless. She rested her head against his chest once more. "My dad was amazing. Until my mom died. Even after that I know he tried his best, it was just… he didn't seem to care about anything anymore. And my Aunt Ri did her best to step in, but that wasn't an easy time for her, either. She was working full-time and her husband got diagnosed with lung cancer the same year my mom died. She tried to be like a second mom, but she was struggling herself. So I was on my own a lot of the time. And there were a lot of days my dad didn't even want to get out of bed. And I _knew_ it was because my mom was gone, but I think sometimes I felt like…" Bella trailed off. There were thoughts she didn't want to put into words. Feelings she had pushed down for so long that the thought of dredging them up now made her nauseous. "I love my dad," she said finally.

"I know." Edward said.

Bella wasn't sure how they started kissing, only that one moment she was staring into his green eyes, marveling at the way he seemed to see her, all of her, the love and the pain, and then the next thing she knew, their lips met.


	14. Chapter 14

The flashing city lights glanced off of the tinted windows of the limousine without penetrating the dark interior. By the time the sleek black automobile pulled up in front of the hotel, all thoughts of Charlie had been pushed from Bella's mind by the relentless heat of Edward's kisses.

Edward pressed her against him possessively, his teeth flashing in a grin as he helped her out of the car. He guided her through the lobby of the hotel with his arm slung casually over her shoulder. People turned to stare at them as they passed; word must have gotten around that Edward Cullen and his new bride were staying in the penthouse. Bella avoided their glances. She was still wearing Edward's coat, and she kept it wrapped around her body as they stepped into the elevator.

The elevator doors had scarcely closed behind them when Edward's phone rang. Edward muttered a curse in annoyance, but he glanced at the caller id anyway and then answered the call. "Emmett. What's wrong?"

As they walked to the penthouse, Bella could hear Emmett talking very quickly, but she couldn't make out any individual words.

Edward listened to his brother talk for a few minutes, but he cut him off as they stepped inside of the suite. "Yeah, Emmett, I get it, but I think it can wait." Edward said, as Bella set her purse and cell phone down on the coffee table.

Edward watched her closely as he listened to his brother for another minute, and then he shook his head with irritation. "Honestly, I don't really give a fuck about Jasper right now. Yeah, not tonight, man." Edward said tightly. "I'll call you later." He hung up. "Sorry," he said, turning back to Bella.

"It's fine," Bella said, nodding agreeably.

"It's not fine, it's a pain in the ass," Edward corrected her bluntly. "But in my line of work you can't afford not to answer the phone. Someone could be shot…arrested…holed up in a motel room with a hostage and only three bullets left, like that time in Houston…"

"Huh." Right now all Bella could think about was the way the muscles were moving beneath Edward's shirt, but she made a mental note to ask him later about that time in Houston.

"It's not an easy life, Bella." Edward said, and she wasn't sure how to read his tone. His eyes were sharp with raw sexual need, but there was something cautionary in his expression, as though he were warning her.

Bella shrugged, leaning back against the counter of the suite's bar. Edward's eyes followed the slant of her hips with frank appreciation. She let his gaze wash over her, warming her and setting fire to the deepest parts of her.

"What life is easy?" She asked. "Honestly, what life?" She felt even more exposed in front of him than usual. The evening's events had worn her down to her rawest essence; she felt exhausted and sad and aroused and in love. "I worked at the Ashley Eden for years, doing laundry for the most privileged people in existence… and even most of _them_ were miserable. Easy is a pipe dream… It's never worth having and it's rarely real. I never wanted an easy life… Just art and a family. Happiness. But not easiness."

Edward's eyes seemed to bore into her. He took a step closer, so that she had to tilt her chin up to stare into his eyes. He was so gorgeous, so inscrutable, so sexy that it was all-consuming.

"For both our sakes, I hope that's true." He said, closing the distance between them entirely and reaching out to touch her face. His fingers ghosted over her cheekbone, grazing her gently, as though she were made of crystal, but then his grip grew stronger and he pressed his thumb to the cleft of her chin as his gaze grew dark. "Because now that I have you, I want to _keep_ you."

Bella took one look at the expression on his face and her body clenched with arousal. This was it. This was the night. The fingers on her face suddenly turned rough. His thumb pressed against her lower lip and then he kissed her. His tongue tangled tantalizingly with hers as his hands found their place at her hips, easing up the hem of her dress.

When they broke for air he ducked his head, pressing his lips against the crook of her neck and inhaling deeply. Bella's face and chest flushed.

The dress had seemed a very respectable length when she put it on that evening, but in seconds Edward's hand slid up her thigh, setting her skin tingling as his fingers brushed over her hip and moved to the silky strap of her panties. Her pulse was thudding between her legs, and she was already wet with longing. He walked her backwards until the back of her legs hit the seat of the oversized red velvet divan.

Bella was on her back before she knew what had happened, and Edward was leaning over her, pressing his lips over hers as his fingers reached the apex of her thighs. There was raw masculine satisfaction on his face as she moaned, and Bella grew even wetter in response.

She pulled the slinky black dress over her head in one smooth motion as Edward made quick work of her panties, and then his fingers found her clit almost immediately.

It was even better than before, as though her body were welcoming him back. His fingers picked up the right rhythm and Bella's back arched. The tension in her core was building, coiling tighter and tighter, but before it became too much for her and she climaxed, Edward withdrew his fingers, and Bella heard the sound of his zipper.

Panting, she reached for him, helping him tug his pants down his hips, until there was only bare skin against bare skin. He grinned at her eagerness, and then shifted, taking one of her hands in his and pinning it against the divan. With the other he gripped her hips, guiding himself into her. Bella's back arched again; she was so insanely aroused that the seconds before he pushed into her were like an eternity. Then she felt the pressure of his manhood pressing inside of her, and her body clenched again and again with pleasure.

There was a moment when the burn was almost too much; he was much bigger than Mike, and Bella's body wasn't quite used to his length or girth, but soon the fit was just right. He eased out of her, slowly, tantalizingly, inch by inch, and then surged back in, filling every part of her, sending shocks of pleasure through her body. Bella moaned as he began to pick up the pace, finding the perfect rhythm.

Edward's lips were at her breasts, at the hollow of her throat, grazing over her shoulder; he shifted his hips so that the angle changed, and Bella gasped as he reached some part of her that had never before been touched. It was unbearable, and the coil inside of her spun tighter and tighter.

Edward laced his fingers with hers, pressing the back of her hands to the divan, holding her in place, swirling his tongue over the peak of her left nipple painstakingly slowly.

It was more than Bella could take. She climaxed first, with a cry of abandon, and Edward came a moment later, shuddering with the force of his orgasm.

* * *

Meanwhile, out in the living room, where she had left it lying on the coffee table, Bella's phone flashed again, and again, and again, as the screen glowed with each new message notification. The message was a little different this time; it wasn't the same image of Williamson being sent over and over. The picture was different…

But Bella was blissfully oblivious.


	15. Chapter 15

Hi everyone! As you've probably noticed, I had to take a break from this story for a few months; I can't seem to kick these medical issues, and the doctors are stumped, which is not great. However, it's coming up on one year since I first published _Flirting with Disaster_ , and this story has been a great joy to me during one of the hardest years of my life, so I wanted to post a quick update. I plan to post a longer chapter this weekend. Also, I just want to confirm that I have no intention of abandoning this story – it may take me a while to finish it, but I have every intention of finishing it. I hope you're all doing great and that 2018 is treating you well.

* * *

"Hey. Hey, you!"

Secluded in the darkest corner of the Ashley Eden break room, Angela pulled her headphones out of her ears, put down her copy of PopGoss Magazine, and blinked irritably at the man who'd had the balls to interrupt her long-awaited 15-minute break.

"Can I help you?" She asked, making use of the disapproving tone she saved for the Eden's most difficult guests.

The man who was disturbing her peace didn't look familiar, although his uniform suggested that he worked in management. He had light brown hair and was largely unremarkable, except for his eyes, which somehow managed to remain oddly blank and flat while the rest of his face moved. "You're Angela, right?" He asked her.

Angela heaved a sigh. "Yes. And you are?"

The man didn't bother answering her. "You're friends with Isabella Cullen, right?"

It still felt weird to hear people refer to Bella as a Cullen, though Angela was getting used to it more quickly than she would have expected, since people simply could not stop gossiping about Bella.

It seemed like no matter where Angela went, people were asking her about Bella and Edward. Even people from work, men and women that Angela had never exchanged so much as a single word with before, were stopping her in the halls to ask for the inside scoop.

"What of it?" She asked, cracking her gum. On the bench beside her, Angela's copy of PopGoss was open to a two-page spread on Bella. It was amazing how full of shit they were; fewer than half their "fast facts" about Bella were even in the neighborhood of correct.

"Does her husband love her?"

Angela's eyebrows shot up her forehead as she stared back at the man. "Uh, what?" She'd gotten some pretty off-the-wall questions about Bella and Edward in the past few days, but there was something about this man's pensive tone that didn't sit well with her.

"Who did you say you are?" Angela asked, squinting at the spot where his name tag should have been. It wasn't there. If the boss caught him, he would get in trouble for that. They were supposed to wear name tags at all times - the managers insisted it had something to do with accountability and customer service.

"It's a simple question," the man said. "Even a maid should be able to answer it without too much trouble."

His tone was arrogant, angry, even, but his eyes remained unnervingly empty. If Angela hadn't been bristling from his attack on both her profession and her intelligence, she might have been unsettled by that dead stare, but instead of getting scared, she got angry.

"Oh. _Really_. Well, listen up creepo, if there's something you want to know about Bella, read the tabloids like every other nosy asshole in this city." She took her copy of PopGoss and tossed it at his chest. He didn't bother raising his arms to catch it, and so it fell on the floor at his feet.

He stared at her, and now there was a hint of surprise in his gaze. "You'll come to regret this."

Angela was suddenly uncomfortably aware of how isolated the break room was from the rest of the hotel and of the way that this man stood between her body and the exit.

"Yeah, well you'll regret this whole conversation when I call the police on your creepy ass. I mean it - get lost." She flung her arm out, pointing at the door with the most fearless expression she could manage, given that she was alone in a dimly lit room with a man who seemed unhinged.

Somedays she really wasn't sure where her courage came from; it seemed to emanate from someplace deep inside of her and make her unaccountably assertive, especially when it came to the people she loved.

In this instance, her guts paid off. The man backed away from her, though his stare lingered far too long on her face and made the hairs on the back of her neck go up. When he finally turned away from her and left the break room, Angela's shoulders slumped slightly in relief. Whoever this guy was, he wasn't going to last long at the Eden with that attitude… plus there was something just… _off_ about him.

His uniform style suggested that he was an assistant manager, but Angela didn't recognize him. That was odd, because as far as Angela knew, there were only five assistant managers at the Ashley Eden, and she knew all of them.

"Must be a new hire then," Angela muttered to herself, as she sat back down. PopGoss was still lying where it had fallen after she flung it at him; she probably should pick it up so that she didn't get accused of littering in the break-room, but somehow it seemed tainted now that it had made contact with his body. She left it lying there, tossed her gum in the trash, ran her hands through her hair, and then went back to work.


	16. Chapter 16

Bella's body ached, but it was a warm, gentle ache. It felt as though all of the tension had been wrung out of her, allowing her to sleep deeper than she had since she was a young child. At some point, she felt Edward moving beside her, and her eyelids parted long enough for her to realize that the room was beginning to brighten with the light of early dawn. Bella was used to waking up with the sun, but this morning she rolled over, burrowing deeper into the tangle of sheets and exhaling every conscious thought in a single deep sigh. She must have slept for another few hours before those conscious thoughts all returned to her in a sudden clamor.

 _Work_. Bella thought groggily. _Time to go to work_.

 _No, no work_ , she realized, after rolling over, blearily opening her eyes and blinking at the luxurious suite around her. Something had changed. She couldn't remember exactly what it was, but something very unexpected had happened, which had led to her waking up in this unfamiliar but extremely beautiful bedroom with a sweet ache between her thighs.

While she tried to remember what had changed, Bella reached above her head and stretched, moaning faintly as her muscles relaxed even further. She felt amazing. Barely conscious, but amazing. Still, she wasn't accustomed to waking up without a clear to-do list in mind, and her lack of any sense of time or place was beginning to worry her. Quickly, she mentally cycled through every single sphere of her life that might need attending to. There was her job at the Ashley Eden - but wait, she didn't have that anymore, did she? And then her babysitting gig - she didn't do that anymore either, but had she called any of the families that she usually sat for to let them know? Bella had no memory of making any such call. She would need to do that right away. Where was her phone? With another moan - this one not of enjoyment - Bella sat all of the way up in the California King bed and tried to piece together this new life that she seemed to be leading. There had been a falling out with her father - ouch. And speaking of people who weren't happy with her, there was also Mike, who was pretty darn pissy now because of…

…Oh, right. Edward. There was the missing piece that her mind had been struggling to place since she first swam back into consciousness. Her marriage. To the man that made her toes curl. Now that Bella remembered, she could still hardly believe it. The man she'd had shockingly good sex with for hours the night before. A little giggle of disbelief escaped her before she could clap a hand over her mouth.

In the interest of not embarrassing herself in front of her new husband, Bella had to pull it together. Fortunately, he was not in the suite at present, which meant that he couldn't see the way she was sitting in bed, grinning like an idiot, with what felt like the world's worst case of bed-head.

Come to think of it, where was Edward? Bella thought that she had some recollection of him rolling over and softly kissing her neck several hours earlier, when it was first getting light out, but she hadn't seen him since. Now that she was fully awake, she could hear the muted sound of a conversation from elsewhere in the penthouse. It sounded like Edward and Emmett were already at work.

So clearly an intimate, post-coital breakfast was out of the question. And clearly Bella would need to be properly dressed before she left the bedroom. And unless she wanted to greet her new brother-in-law smelling like sex, she would need a shower before she emerged. And she had to make it skippy because there were a million things to do. Bella couldn't remember exactly what they were, but she had this feeling like she had been living in a dream for the past 48-hours, and now she had the distinct sense that it was time to come down from her rapture and figure some things out.

"Okay Bella, one foot in front of the other," she muttered as she wrapped a sheet around herself and stood up. "Shower, then dress, then figure out your life."

* * *

Twenty minutes and one brisk shower later, Bella pulled on some of her new clothes, selecting a white lace top and a red skirt that swirled around her legs and made her feel far more graceful than she actually was. She combed through her damp hair, letting it fall loosely around her face, then slipped on a pair of strappy sandals and, finally, went out into the living room.

As she had expected, Emmett was there, cradling a mimosa in one hand and chugging an energy drink with the other, while Edward talked on the phone. Eric was also in attendance, and he and his assortment of electronics were firmly installed in the adjacent dining room, where he had set up a command center and was speaking quietly but intently into a headset.

Eric seemed oblivious to Bella's entrance, but Emmett nodded politely, and Edward flashed her a sexy grin. Suddenly feeling a little flushed, Bella glanced down at the coffee table and picked up her cell phone to distract herself.

She only had to glance at the most recent text message to realize that there was a problem. Bella looked up, met Edward's gaze, and he must have been able to read her face like a book, because he quickly interrupted whoever he was on the phone with. "That's enough," he said authoritatively. "I'm going to have to call you back." Edward hung up and put the phone down. "Bella? What's wrong?"

* * *

Just over an hour later, the entire Cullen clan, plus Eric, was having an urgent family meeting over brunch in Edward and Bella's hotel suite. Their faces were grim, and Bella was so full of nervous energy that she could only pick at her breakfast of crepes and fruit salad. Eric had furnished her with a brand-new computer, fully equipped with all kinds of elite cybersecurity measures, and she had a fork in one hand while she checked her social media accounts with the other.

"And you have no way of tracing the text message?" Frustrated, Edward ran a hand through his hair and then leaned back in his chair, hands braced on his thighs.

Eric shrugged and tapped a few more keys on his laptop. "Sorry man. The message was sent from a burner phone. I can tell you that whoever sent it was somewhere in the middle of Manhattan when they sent the text, but that tells us…"

"…Absolutely nothing." Edward finished. "Except that, whoever this joker is, he's nearby." He extended his arm, draping it over the back of Bella's chair in an unconsciously possessive gesture.

Esme shook her head. "I don't like this. Will you show me the message again?"

Bella wiped her syrupy fingers on a napkin and passed Esme her cell phone. As Esme studied the brief message, her expression grew even darker. "And this picture, you're telling me that's of your… journal?"

"Sketchbook," Bella said, painfully aware of the bloom that rose to her cheeks. Talking about her art with anyone always felt intensely personal and kind of awkward, but it was especially embarrassing discussing her drawing with Esme, who seemed like the sort of person who was probably on the board of at least half a dozen museums. "I draw sometimes."

"Really?" Esme smiled, "I didn't know that. You'll have to show me some of your art sometime."

"See, that's what I don't like," Alice cut in. Her brow was furrowed with concern. "Whoever this guy is, his beef is with us, right?"

"Presumably," Edward said, leaning back in his chair. His shirt rode up slightly, revealing the lower planes of his tanned stomach, and Bella tried not to blush again at the memories from last night that suddenly rushed to the forefront of her mind.

It was only when a very self-satisfied smile spread over Edward's sinful lips that Bella realized he had caught her gaze and guessed the direction of her thoughts.

They shared a heated glance before Bella dragged her gaze back to Esme.

"I think so, I mean, I don't really have any true enemies. I don't think." Bella said, "well, besides Mike."

"Who's Mike again?" Esme inquired.

"Ex-boyfriend." Edward explained succinctly. "A nobody. Totally irrelevant." He added with savage satisfaction.

"Oh." Esme looked back at the phone. "Well, much as I hate to take credit for this, I agree with Bella. She's unlikely to be the real target. This enemy is probably ours."

"And that's what bothers me." Alice spoke up. "We've been threatened before; I mean shit, when are we not being threatened? But this feels different… I mean, it feels _personal_. Whoever this is actually went to the trouble to steal Bella's sketchbook, which means they must have been to the hotel where she used to work. And now they're sending photos of it to her? Why? What do they want? We know it has something to do with Jameson, but Bella isn't the one who shot him, so why are they targeting her? Like this feels like it's about Bella."

"I know what you mean," Bella agreed. "It feels weird and stalker-ish, but I just don't know who it could be. I still don't think it's Mike…"

"No," Edward waved a hand dismissively. "We checked him out thoroughly. I agree with Bella - he's definitely an all-around loser, but I don't think this is his style."

"Wait, you checked up on Mike?" Bella asked.

"Of course," Alice said. "As soon as you and Edward got married. You do know that he was cheating on you for like, years, right?"

In her heart of hearts, Bella had suspected, but she had never really known for sure. Under different circumstances, the confirmation might have stung, but at the moment she had bigger problems - like, about 50 of them - and she had just spent the best night of her life with the man formerly considered the city's hottest bachelor, so she wasn't particularly devastated to receive confirmation of Mike's transgressions.

"Speaking of irrelevant nobodies from Bella's past," Rosalie said, idly turning the next page of the magazine she was browsing, "oh look, the National Enquirer conducted an interview with someone named Lauren, who's calling Bella, and I quote, 'the ultimate gold-digger.'" She flipped a few pages forward and winced. "Ah. And someone from Bella's family, who _clearly_ holds a grudge, has furnished them with Bella's eighth-grade class photo."

" _What_?" Bella leaned over Rosalie's shoulder to see the offending photo, and then glared. "That's my _tenth_ -grade class photo."

Rosalie's violet eyes widened as she did a perfect double take. "What? Really? My apologies. It must have been the pigtails that misled me."

Resisting the urge to flip off her new sister-in-law, Bella leaned away from the snide starlet and rolled her eyes. "Gold-digger!" she fumed. "What is Lauren even _talking_ about? I dated the same guy for ten years and he was a totally broke failed musician."

"Ah, but you _married_ a billionaire." Rosalie reminded her in a velvety voice.

"Rose," Edward growled warningly, but Bella just held up her hand.

"Right, Rosalie. Then again, so did you… Remind me: did you make it in Hollywood before or after you married Emmett and gained access to the Cullen family money and connections? After, wasn't it?" Bella inquired with mock innocence.

Rosalie fixed her with a frosty stare and then returned to her magazine without offering a response.

Across the table, Alice raised her eyebrows as if impressed by Bella, and lifted her mimosa in a toasting gesture before downing what remained of her drink.

On the screen in front of Bella, a new email appeared in her inbox.

 _Isabella! Hi, how are you? Saw your picture in the papers this morning, and just had to drop you a line and say hi. Congratulations on your marriage! So happy to hear you're doing so well. I really miss how close we used to be. We should totally grab coffee sometime this week. Let me know when you're free. xoxoxo_

 _Tricia_

"Who the hell is Tricia?" Bella muttered to herself. She scrolled down to the bottom of the email, hoping for some other clue as to the identity of the sender.

Bella scrolled back up to the top of the message and her eyes narrowed as she checked the email address for the sender's full name: triciascagliotta.

"Patricia Scagliotta?" Bella breathed in disbelief. "She has some nerve."

Patricia Scagliotta had tormented Bella in middle school, which had already been a fairly torturous experience, even before Patricia (who had gone by Patti back then) decided to bully the entire student body into excluding Bella from every social event from the beginning of sixth grade through the first semester of eighth grade, when Patti had finally found someone else to torment. Angela was one of the only people who had been brave enough to tell Patti to fuck off, and it had been a couple of long, lonely years for both Angela and Bella before Patti found a new target.

"Who's Patricia Scagliotta?" Rosalie asked, and suddenly Bella was rocketed back to the present, where she was significantly less pimply, finally had reason to wear a bra, and was married to the head of an international crime family. Oh, and sister-in-law to Rosalie Rochester, recently named hottest woman of the year by StarLove Magazine.

The hottest woman of the year was currently looking over Bella's shoulder and reading her emails. "Excuse me!" Bella said, turning around to glance accusingly at her spying sister-in-law.

Rosalie cocked an eyebrow shamelessly. "Who is she?"

Bella shrugged in confusion. "Some girl who used ruin my life for fun back in middle school. I haven't seen her in like a decade, but she just sent me this email as though we were close friends or something. She must be delusional."

Rosalie sighed knowingly. "It's already beginning," she announced.

"What's already beginning?"

"The relentless onslaught of nobodies from your past who are going to look you up and try to pretend that you two were besties back in the day. Brace yourself, she's the first of many. You wouldn't believe the slimy characters from the rotted branches of my family tree who acted like they were part of my success when I finally made it. With some of them I wasn't even sure _how_ we were related."

Esme had been listening to their conversation, and she pursed her lips thoughtfully. "It would be helpful if you had someone to weed through these communications for you. You can borrow one of our staff at first, but eventually you might like to have your own personal assistant. You probably shouldn't hire a stranger though. Especially with all of the press you've gotten lately. It's better to choose someone you already know well and trust."

"It's true," Rosalie said. "Most people who make it in Hollywood end up hiring their closest friends and family members. It makes perfect sense. If you're going to spend money, you might as well spend it on people you like, and since they've been there with you from the beginning you know you can trust them."

"Hm. Too bad you didn't have any close friends or family members," Alice remarked.

There was a moment of silence, and Bella got the impression that Alice had struck a particularly sensitive nerve. "That's enough!" Emmett snapped, before Rosalie could respond.

"Alice, really," Esme murmured disapprovingly.

Not for the first time, Bella tried to remember what she had read about Rosalie Rochester's background; she kept meaning to peruse her new sister-in-law's wikipedia page, but it was hard to find the time when her own life kept galloping along at a positively breathtaking pace.

"Can you think of anyone like that?" Esme asked Bella, redirecting the conversation back to a safer topic. "Anyone who might be able to help you now that your life is going to be so different?"

"Well, there's my best friend, Angela." Bella said. "We're like sisters and I trust her completely."

"Excellent," Esme said with a smile, "if you're that close it sounds like she would be a great choice. We can certainly look into hiring Angela."

Eric, who had been zoning out in the corner, typing away at his computer, suddenly tuned back into the conversation. "Wait, you're going to hire Angela?" Eric asked. "That's great!"

Another moment of silence followed as everyone in the room took note of his eager tone. Eric cringed, "I mean, uh, that sounds very… practical. You know… given everything you have going on… personal assistant… good idea…" Eric smiled awkwardly. "Right then…" he muttered and retreated behind his computer screen.

Edward grinned wolfishly. "Maybe _you_ should hire her, Eric."

"Don't know what you're talking about." Eric said. "I'm sure she knows nothing about cybersecurity." But the techie's ears reddened visibly as he tapped away on his keyboard.

"Returning to the matter at hand," Esme said smoothly, "I'm a little worried. We have plenty of security, of course, but something about these messages disturbs me. I can't quite put my finger on it, but the decision to target Bella is…"

"Irrational," Alice put in. "Doesn't make any sense, assuming any logical aim, like blackmail or exposure or revenge. That's what's concerning. It suggests some kind of illogical attachment or fixation. Something emotionally driven and _unpredictable_ . . ." Alice hesitated. "Now that I think about it…" she frowned. "Let me see the picture again."

Esme handed her the phone and Alice studied the picture intently, her dark eyes narrowing.

Bella's phone buzzed. It was a text from Angela.

 _Did you block Mike's number? Good job if so… only problem is, now he won't stop texting_ _ **me**_ _._

Bella sighed, and her phone buzzed again as Angela sent another message.

 _Also, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I saw your Aunt Maria at the market this morning, and I think your cousin Valerie might have released one of your all time worst high school photos to the press. So… yeah. Just wanted to warn you._

Too late. Sixteen-year-old Bella, with her acne, braces and elementary-school hairstyle was already making her way through every magazine and celebrity gossip forum in North America.

Bella sighed again. This morning-after was quickly getting complicated.


End file.
